


When Worlds Collide

by Cyberfairie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Blow Jobs, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:16:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 77,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5136053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberfairie/pseuds/Cyberfairie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my Adoribull Sunday Prompts and other Tumblr shorts....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's A Reason The Chargers Aren't In The Wedding Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not Sunday, but I can't get this out of my head: Chargers actually acting like matchmakers? I always see them written as angry kids who don't like new step-mother, but what if they actually helped?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (And I dedicate this one to [Auds1978](http://archiveofourown.org/users/auds1978/pseuds/auds1978) because she asked for some fluff to offset the angst.)

“No.”

“Awwww, come on Krem, you don’t even know what we’re going to say.”

Krem arched his brow at the trio before him.  Dalish was already looking up at him through her lashes, a sure sign she was up to something, Stitches had on that grin that meant whatever it is was going to be something that Krem didn’t like, and Grim, fuck, was he actually pouting?  “Fine, what the fuck do you want even though the answer is probably no.”

“We’ve been watching the Chief and the ‘Vint…”

“Ah, fuck no, you guys aren’t going to play matchmaker again are you?  Remember that red-headed barmaid in Jaden…you know, in the bar we aren’t allowed back into because her _husband_ didn’t appreciate you sending her flowers from the Chief?  Or, oh, wait, maybe we should talk about that brunette in Denerim, the one with the girlfriend that tagged along with them on their ‘date’?”

“Oh, we know.  We’ve decided we’re really bad at this,” Dalish agreed with a broad grin.  “That’s why we think you should do it.”

Krem spewed ale in a mist as fine as any fountain found in Orlais, bemoaning the lost beer even as he hissed, “Why me?”

“Cause you’re the Chief’s best friend,” Stitches explained reasonable, slapping Krem on the shoulder with his hand as Grim nodded his head and grinned behind him.  “And who better to reason with a ‘Vint than a fellow ‘Vint?”

“You do realize they ran me out of that country at the point of a sword.”

“Yeah, well, same with Dorian from what we’ve heard,” Stitches shrugged.  “Let’s face it man, you’re the best one for the job.”

The shitty thing was Krem had to admit they were right, which is why he slapped his hand over his face as he shook his head slowly.  “You lot are going to be the death of me.  Fine.  I’ll watch them together and if I agree with you then we’ll come up with something.”

Dalish’s squeal was Krem’s only warning before she threw herself at him. “Oh thank you, you’ll see, they’re gonna be perfect together.”

Krem chuckled.  “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before…now you all go find something to do before I put you on Rocky watching duty.”

Well shit.  That cleared the room quickly enough that Krem was left wishing he’d led with it, then maybe he wouldn’t be stuck spending a night watching the Chief and the ‘Vint trade snappy insults then watch each other with calf eyes the moment one’s back was turned.  So yeah, he might have played stupid with the team but he already knew they were right.  The question was how to get the two most stubborn men in Skyhold to admit it to each other.

 

 

Krem got his first chance the next day as he and the Chief finished up the day’s training.  The Chief had only knocked him on his ass twice that day which meant he was in a pretty good mood and Krem kept his tone casual as he reached for his shield.  “Hey Chief, you ever think about asking the ‘Vint out?”

Bull shrugged.  “He knows where I am if he’s interested.”

“Yeah, that’s not what I asked.  I mean by now everyone in Skyhold knows where you are.  I meant have you ever told him you’d like to spend time with him?”

Bull swung his practice sword up onto his shoulder before turning to look straight at Krem.  “What’s with the sudden interest in my sex life, Krem?”

“Don’t take this wrong Chief but that’s about the last thing I need to know more about.  Listen, just forget I said anything,” Krem muttered as he turned to leave the training ring.

Just as he stepped out of the circle Bull called out, “Ok, so I might be interested.  But I told him he looked good in those skirts he wears and he just stared at me like I’d insulted him…”

Krem only barely remembered he had his shield in his hand before he attempted to slap it to his face.  “Robes Chief…they’re called robes.”

“Robes, skirts, what’s the difference?”

Krem sighed and just kept walking.  A wise man knew when he was beat.  Maybe the ‘Vint would be easier to deal with.

 

 

Krem was sitting on the bench out behind the tavern two days later using the afternoon sun to help keep his stitches even as he mended the tunic that Rocky had managed to rip the week before during their dart tournament.  It still befuddled him how a dwarf who handled explosives all day could be so damned clumsy, but for some reason they all still let the bastard have a knife and as it had only caught the tunic and not Krem’s ribs when the dwarf went down Krem counted himself lucky.

And speaking of lucky, he grinned a little to himself, Dalish should be softening Dorian up right now to the idea of he and the Chief getting together.  If he didn’t have a needle in his hand Krem would actually pat himself on the back for that little stroke of genius.  He’d had Dalish go to Dorian and ask for some help with her storm magic, knowing the ‘Vint wouldn’t be able to resist showing off and figuring that once the two of them were alone Dalish could subtly talk up the Chief.

“He told me he wishes me and the Chief well.”

Fuck.  Plucking the needle out of his thumb Krem held the injured appendage to his mouth as he glared up at Dalish.  “Wot?”

The archer sighed and slumped down onto the bench beside him.  “He thought I was warning him off the Chief…told me he understood and wished us well.”

Inspecting his thumb and deciding it was done bleeding Krem frowned at Dalish.  “What exactly did you say?”

“Well, I told him that I know it looks like the Chief will chase anything in a skirt…”  Dalish broke off at Krem’s groan but he waved her on as he hung his head.  “Anyway, I told him that actually the Chief is very loyal and faithful and that there wasn’t anyone I trusted more.”

“You made him sound like a bloody mabari,” Krem groaned.  “One that had imprinted on _you._ ”

“I did?” Dalish asked, her nose scrunching up in confusion. 

Krem was certain his sigh could be heard from the front gates.  “Tell me you at least corrected him.”

“There really wasn’t time.  When I told him how much I appreciated what the Chief has done for me he got all flustered and said he’d forgotten about an appointment.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose Krem wondered why he’d ever thought sending Dalish was a good idea.  “Please, tell me something positive came out of this.”

“Oh yes, definitely,” Dalish chirped brightly, giving Krem hope until she spoke again.  “He’s a very good teacher.”

He hated them.  He hated them all.

 

 

Still, Krem persevered, paying a stable boy to ‘forget’ who asked him to deliver flowers to Dorian…but apparently the mage suffered from hay fever and spent the next two days in his bed sneezing.  An unfortunate mistake, but he was certain that the mango he’d procured for Bull would be appreciated.  And it was, except Bull had assumed Maggie, the kitchen steward, had snuck it into his room and that had been an embarrassing bit of thanks.

Krem would have given up in the second week, after Stitches attempt to talk to Dorian only ended up with him returning to the tavern with a stack of books on the care and treatment of certain diseases that Krem really didn’t want to know about.  But then the Chief stopped spending time with the kitchen maids in favor of adding more practice time to their day.  Practice time the Chief spent staring up at the little rectangular window that looked in on Dorian’s nook.

Then there was the third week.  When they’d sent Rocky to seek out the Chief, asking him about Qunari tricks to prevent his explosives from detonating too early and the Chief had assumed ‘detonating early’ was a euphemism.  Which had only flustered Rocky so much that he _had_ detonated the piece he’d brought along as a sample and, well, the masons would have that wall fixed in a week they said.  Maybe two.

He’d been ready to call it quits right then and there despite the puppy dog looks he was getting from the team but then that night Dorian had not only joined them for drinks, but when he thought Dalish wasn’t looking, Krem had seen him lay his hand on Bull’s arm once or twice.

And so, after thinking about it long and hard, Krem had come up with one final plan.  It would either work or he was giving up and moving to Orlais.  Because fuck if a career hemming Orlesian pants wasn’t starting to look good right about now.

 

 

“Where exactly are we going Krem?”  Bull asked with a scowl.  He had thought he knew most of the maze of corridors and hidden rooms of Skyhold but as he followed his lieutenant through an empty room that was large enough to hold a table for fifty he was forced to reassess his thoughts.

“Almost there Chief.  I guess I could go track down a couple of Cullen’s men it’s just that the Inquisitor told me she really needed this crate and I can’t…”

“Naw, it’s fine Krem.  I’ve got nowhere to be, which is good since I’m pretty fucking sure we’re in the middle of nowhere right now.”

Krem’s bark of laughter echoed through the room.  “Ha, good one Chief.  Ah, look, here we are.  The room’s kinda small so it might be better if you went in first, I’ll stay on this side to maneuver the crate.”

Bull arched his brow but stepped into the room as soon as Krem opened the door.

“Hey!” Dorian sprang towards Bull at the same moment that the door slammed shut behind him, actually hitting him on the ass as it closed.

“What the fuck Krem?” Bull growled as Dorian slammed into him, his fist pounding on the door.

“What the fuck indeed,” Dorian hissed only an instant later.

“You two are staying in there until you figure out whatever the fuck it is you two keep dancing around…I’ll be back to check on you later,” Krem called, his voice fading as he spoke like he was already walking away.

“I can’t believe you got us locked in here,” Dorian huffed, scowling up at Bull.

“Me?  You’re the one who got locked in twice,” Bull chuckled.

“Yes, by your hooligans,” Dorian countered, spinning around to storm away from Bull.  “That’s what I get for trusting one of your Chargers.  ‘Dalish needs help Dorian, it’ll only take a minute’.  Ha!”

Without Dorian smashed up against him Bull was able to step fully into the space, his brow furrowing as he took in the tiny ‘L’ shaped room.  His confusion wasn’t so much for the section of the room that was lined with dusty bottles, more for the other half which contained a small table with a white cloth over it and what appeared to be some of the Inquisition’s finest plates and glasses.  A bottle of that snooty ‘Vint wine Dorian loved but always hated to pay for was already open and there were dishes covered with silver domes that Bull had a feeling would contain their favorite foods.  A small candelabra completed the effect.  Looking at the romantic scene, several recent incidents began to fit together in Bull’s head.

 _I meant have you ever told him you’d like to spend time with him?_ Bull laughed as Krem’s words to him from several weeks ago flitted back through his mind.  Laughed long enough that Dorian turned to face him with a scowl, his hands on his hips and looking so much like Bull’s old Tama that he laughed even harder.

“I fail to see the humor in this,” Dorian growled with a tap of his foot.

“Fuck, really?” Bull finally managed to get out, spreading his arm out to indicate the entire room.  “Tell me, have the Chargers been acting a little odd to you lately?”

“The Chargers are always odd,” Dorian spit out immediately, then tilted his head slightly and bit his lower lip for a moment before continuing, “Now that you mention it, yes.  First Dalish felt it necessary to warn me off of you then…”

_“What?”_

Dorian waved his hand distractedly.  “Oh really, it’s no concern.  I quite understand how she could be feeling possessive.”

_“What?”_

Dorian’s expression returned to a frown.  “Am I speaking in Tevene or have you finally stopped understanding Common?  I said your girlfriend warned me against…”

“Dalish is _not_ my girlfriend.  Well, she’s a woman and she’s a friend but not the two together.  I mean, we don’t fuck.”

“Lovely,” Dorian drawled with a roll of his eyes and Bull wasn’t certain if he was commenting on Bull’s language or the fact that he and Dalish were most certain not...just _not_.

The need to change the direction of the conversation had Bull blurting out, “Krem asked me if I ever thought about asking you out.”

Dorian froze so thoroughly, that Bull would be concerned if they were in Orlais, that the ‘Vint might be mistaken for a statue and defaced accordingly.

“I explained to him that I had told you I was interested and you weren’t, apparently…”

“You most certainly _did not_ ,” Dorian bit out.

“Yes I did, On the Storm Coast, I told you your skirt...err, robes looked good.”

“You told me to hike up my skirts.”  Dorian’s hands were back on his hips.

“Well, that’s what I meant.”

“You accuse me of wearing a dress and I’m supposed to take that as ‘would you like to have dinner with me sometime’?”

Bull picked the edge of his belt with his claw, feeling the leather split.  “Well when you say it that way…”

“Fasta vass,” Dorian hissed, his hands waving at the table setting much as Bull had done earlier.  “So all of _this_ is your team trying to set us up?”

“Maybe?” Bull whispered, hanging his head slightly.  “Is it working?”

“Is it...is it…” Dorian sputtered, then fell silent for a moment, and then a bright bark of laughter burst from him as he fell back against a wall, a bottle threatening to topple over on his head that Bull caught at the last possible moment, leaving him looming over the laughing mage.

Dorian’s eyes tracked as Bull set the bottle back onto the shelf then placed his palm firmly against the wall by Dorian’s head, leaving his second arm down so as not to trap the mage if he wanted to escape.  

Dropping his head back against the wall Dorian looked up at Bull, his tongue darting out to lick over suddenly dry lips.  The mage looked more uncertain than Bull had ever seen him as he whispered, “Actually I suppose it is.”

“Good,” Bull grinned, dropping his head lower.  “And since I’m liable to fuck this up at any moment I think I’d rather just get the goodnight kiss over with first.”

Bull could hear Dorian swallow hard, the mage’s eyes widening slightly as he whispered, “I think that’s probably a good idea...maybe the best one you’ve had all..”

Then Bull’s lips were on his, the kiss light and over far too soon which is why Dorian was obligated to wrap his arm around Bull’s horn and pull him back down for a deeper one, and maybe just one more after that...


	2. The Prince in His Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adoribull sunday prompt! as the lucerni gather more support in tevinter, bull is kidnapped as leverage against dorian... but instead of panicking, dorian takes it upon himself to take his amatus back by all means necessary... even using necromancy to resurrect a dragon and fly to the damn place himself. (AKA bull is an actual princess who gets rescued not only by the knight but by the dragon too cos dorian is nothing if not thorough)

Bull woke with a start, sitting bolt upright only to slump back down as his head immediately started to pound.  Groaning softly he settled back into a bed far softer than anything he was used to outside of the villa he and Dorian shared, and this heavy four poster bed with crimson bed hangings certainly wasn’t theirs.  Besides, last time he’d checked, he’d been in Markham in the Free Marches with the Chargers chasing down a lead on a Rivani trader who had pissed off the Teyrn of Ostwick by shorting him several casks of wine.  And by several, Bull meant all of them.

Closing his eyes he pictured the tavern the Chargers had been drinking in, Krem had been giving Stitches shit because the tavern girl he’d been flirting with had ended up on Grim’s knee.  He’d laughed with the rest of the group then decided to head up to their room and try to reach Dorian with the sending crystal.  He hadn’t talked to the mage in a few days and he’d had just enough ale to make some private time seem like a good idea.

He remembered climbing the stairs and when he’d reached the top one of the serving girls had been pressed against the wall by someone in a black cloak so Bull had shifted to move around them, his lips curling into a smile just as he’d felt the sting at his neck and…

Fuck.  Sitting up again he ignored the headache to take in the rest of the room, which only took a moment because it was barren of anything but the bed which was sitting in the center of the room.  One tall window let in the afternoon sun which made Bull think about what else he hadn’t seen as he’d perused the room.  Except he had to be wrong because obviously they had gotten him in here somehow.

A tiny flicker of panic hit him as he rolled out of bed only to end up grabbing for one of the posters to keep from sliding to the floor, his head still swimming with whatever crap they’d given him to knock him out.  Once he felt fairly certain he wasn’t going to crack his skull open the moment he took a step he spun in a slow circle only to find his first assessment had been correct.  The room lacked a door of any kind.  Not one in the wall, nor in the floor or the ceiling, nothing but the tall window that he crossed to and…his bare feet curled against the flagstone floor in an effort to ward off the vertigo caused as he had to look way, way down to see what he assumed were trees.  He was so fucked.

 

 

Dorian felt his sending crystal vibrate and reluctantly silenced it.  He was in the middle of a meeting with Maevaris and several Magisters whom they had identified as being potentially willing to consider joining the Lucerni.  Which at the moment meant that they were willing to drink Dorian’s wine and order the most expensive items on the menu while expounding upon all of the reasons Mae’s ‘little rebellion’ couldn’t possibly work.

Dorian wanted to slam his glass down on the table and ask them if they might be familiar with the last little rebellion he’d been a part of…the Inquisition ring any bells?  But instead he smiled politely and explained for the fifth time why Tevinter could not afford to continue operating in the way it had for the past two hundred years.  Before he could reach the end of his speech however his crystal began vibrating again, noiseless but certainly annoying as he tried to focus and again he shut it down.

When it started up again only a few moments later Dorian was forced to excuse himself from the table, concern warring with frustration as he allowed the maître d’ to direct him to an empty salon he could utilize for a moment.  “What is it Bull?” he hissed as he allowed the connection to complete this time, irritation winning until he got no response from the other end.  His next query was more concerned.  “Bull?”

“Awww, such touching concern for an ox,” an unfamiliar male voice echoed through the room.

“Who is this?”

“Does it really matter?  What you should be concerned about Magister Pavus is that your dear ox, while comfortable at the moment will soon begin to long for the food and drink that you are partaking so heavily in.”

“How do…” Dorian broke off, it was hardly a secret that he and Mae had dinner plans and for all he knew the stranger was fishing for information.

“Ah, you think you are so clever but we are the ones who have your lover.  And if you hope to see him alive again you will need to renounce your participation in Magister Tilani’s little rebellion.”

Dorian didn’t just see red, he called it, flames leaping to life in his palm.  Only a lifetime of practice kept him from burning the restaurant to the ground around him.  Severing the call as well as the flames, he stormed out of the room and past the startled waitstaff, back to the table where Mae sat laughing with their three guests.  Guests Dorian didn’t give a damn about except the tall, angular man sitting to Mae’s right. Magister Narconis, the man who had described the Lucerni in exactly the same manner as the man who currently possessed Bull’s crystal.  The man who Dorian swept from his chair and threw into the wall behind him, his fingers curling around the his throat so tightly that he couldn’t get a spell out if he tried.

Ignoring Mae’s gasps and the excited titters from the other diners in the room Dorian hissed, “Attempt a spell and I’ll gladly rip your throat out, do you understand me?”

A frantic nod from the pinned Magister had Dorian loosening his grip slightly.  “Where is he?”

“Who?” Narconis squeaked, his fingers prying at Dorian’s hand ineffectually as Dorian pulled him from the wall and slammed him back against it again.

“Do not test my patience, you’ll find I have pathetically little of it.”

“They said you’d never know it was me…”

_“Where…is…he?”_

“I do not know, they did not tell me.”

“And who is ‘they’?”

“Pardon me Magister Pavus,” the maître d’ stood at his shoulder looking faintly nervous.

_“What?”_

“I just thought that perhaps I might have a better location for this conversation sir.”

Dorian wanted to tell the man to fuck off but settled for sighing heavily as he nodded curtly.  Maintaining his hold on Narconis, Dorian followed the maître d’ down a hallway, hesitating when the man opened an unmarked door that apparently led into an alleyway behind the restaurant.

At Dorian’s arched brow the maître d’ shrugged, “Blood is so difficult to get out of the carpets you see.”

“Appreciated,” Dorian nodded, shoving Narconis through the door despite his muttered cries, only waiting until the door shut quietly behind him to shake Narconis and growl, “I believe you owe me an answer.”

“If I tell you they’ll kill me,” the man stuttered, though something in Dorian’s look must have told him that was something Dorian would take care of here and now if he didn’t start answering and he finally gasped, “The Thalsian Order.”

“Thalsian Order?” Dorian frowned.  He’d heard rumors of course, a group of magisters that wanted to go back to the old ways.  Back when the Altus were the only ones to control the country.  “You do realize under their ways you’d be stripped of your title Narconis.”

“A small price to pay to end all this nonsense about the Soporati actually getting a say in things.  Fasta vass, you yourself said that slavery is an antiquated notion.  Next thing you know you’ll have an elf wearing the Achron’s robes.”

Dorian wished that Narconis’ outburst surprised him, but unfortunately he had heard the same sentiments expressed by so many of his countrymen that he was in fact bored.  And while he was here listening to this tripe, Maker only knew what was happening to Bull.

He was saved having to decide what to do with the idiot when Mae stuck her head out the door.  “Dorian dear, he may be a fool but I’m quite certain if you don’t immolate him, Magister Narconis will see the reasoning behind supporting the Lucerni.”

“We couldn’t trust him any farther than I could throw him.”

“Which is apparently about six feet,” Mae calmly drawled, closing the distance to place a soothing hand on Dorian’s arm.  “And I didn’t say he would join our little group I just said that I’m quite certain that in exchange for being allowed to continue to breathe the fine air of this lovely alleyway Magister Narconis will support us with his vote at the appropriate time.  Isn’t that right Maxim dear?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Narconis fervently agreed with a rapid nod of his head and Dorian released him with a sigh, paying the man no further attention as he looked toward Mae.

“They’ve taken Bull, Mae, and they’re refusing to tell me where he is until I agree to denounce the Lucerni.”

“How did they…”

“His crystal, they took his crystal,” Dorian snapped, only to gasp slightly when he realized what he’d done.  Running a shaking hand through his hair he whispered, “I’m sorry Mae, I just…”

“Please darling, you should know better than to apologize to me.  Besides, Coulet and Lyon are both in, apparently watching you manhandle Maxim assured them that we are willing to stand behind our beliefs,” Mae slid the hand that was still resting against his arm through it and turned them both toward the street.  “Now, what are we going to do to get your Bull back?”

 

 

Dorian closed the book in his lap with a low growl and nearly gave in to the need to throw it into the fireplace for all the good it had done him.  Springing to his feet he stormed across Mae’s library and threw open the drapes, staring morosely out into the night sky.  Five days, it had been five days since Bull had been taken and they were no closer now to finding him than they’d been when he’d let Narconis go.

A decision he was regretting now, not because he thought that the man would betray him but simply because the knowledge that the man was breathing free air while Bull was being starved somewhere made Dorian’s blood boil.  Growling softly as he dropped the curtains he spun on his heel, intent upon finding Mae and telling her that enough was enough.  He didn’t care if it was weak on his part, a simple bit of blood magic could tell them what they needed and he’d be damned if…

“They’re based out of Marothius, Magister Solinas’ doing from what I understand.  I believe they’ve trapped Bull in one of the ancient watchtowers that dot the mountain range.”

Marothius.  Venhedis, that was a week by horse, possibly only five days by boat, but then to find Bull in _one_ of the watchtowers?   He didn’t have that sort of time.  Casting panicked eyes at Mae he saw the same concern he had reflected in her expression.  “How many?  How many watchtowers?”

“A half dozen still standing, but they’re spread out.  Even if we each took one it could take a couple of weeks to check them all.”

“Two more weeks without water?  He won’t last that long Mae, I need something faster…I need a fucking griffon…”  Dorian stopped then, his expression blanking as his thoughts turned inward.  He could do it, he knew he could do it, the question was where did one find the last known resting spot of a griffon.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Dorian, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Mae frowned, but Dorian ignored her and headed for the door.

 

“ _This_ would be why I didn’t recommend it,” Mae repeated late the following afternoon as she and Dorian stared at the dragon that stood before them.  Well, at least it had, at one point in time been a dragon, now it was little more than bone and intent.

Mae’s concern ratcheted up about ten points when Dorian just started laughing maniacally next to her.  Afraid that perhaps the stress had finally gotten to him she laid a hand on his shoulder.  “Dorian.”

“Oh, don’t you see, of course it _had_ to be a dragon.  I’m standing here in the biggest damned griffon boneyard there ever was and of course it was a dragon I summoned.”

Mae watched as Dorian fingered the dragon tooth pendant he wasn’t even bothering to hide as it was just the two of them out here, still almost a full day’s ride from Weisshaupt so they shouldn’t be attracting attention from the Wardens.  Although Mae found it hard to believe that anyone would have missed the dragon that had pulled itself from the hard earth only moments ago, bones shifting and creaking as it had struggled to get free of its grave only to burst into flight, landing gracefully just a few feet in front of them.

“Dorian, you can’t truly mean…”

“To fly this beast straight into their stronghold and decimate every last one of them?” Dorian demanded, something sharp and near broken in his look that had Mae praying he found Bull in time or she wasn’t quite certain it would be her Dorian who returned.

There was a moment of hesitation as Dorian approached the dragon, clearly Dorian’s plan hadn’t been well thought out as he hadn’t anticipated dealing with only a pile of bones.  His usual subjects tended to be more…fresh.  In the end, Dorian scrambled up onto the beast’s neck and settled into its shoulders, feet pressing against the breastbone to stabilize himself in a rather disconcerting way that would never have been possible if the creature had been skin and muscle.

Mae actually gasped as the beast lifted off the ground.  Not that she had doubted Dorian’s skills, either as a mage or a necromancer, but this…this was something that only a handful of mages in history could have accomplished.  For a moment she almost felt sorry for the bastards who were holding Dorian’s beloved.  Almost.  She watched as Dorian’s stretched his hand out in the direction he wanted the thing to fly and in a moment, they were gone.

 

 

Dorian was surprised to find that he actually enjoyed the sensation of flight.  There was something to be said for the way the wind rustled his robes and even though most of his focus was on keeping the spirit inhabiting the bones beneath him focused he still had time to notice the patterns that the landscape provided.

But the thing Dorian appreciated most is that the journey that would have taken him a week took him but a few hours, the Hundred Pillars mountain range rising quickly before him as he headed not for the city of Marothius but past it to where he knew the Solinas estate lay in the foothills.

Dorian remembered having traveled with his father to the estate once, some sort of trade his father was hoping to establish and all Dorian remembered were the acres and acres of walnut trees and the fact that his father had believed the elder Solinas to be an idiot.  Apparently the son had not improved upon that failing.

At the sight of a bone dragon flying directly over the walls of the estate Dorian watched as the two guards at the gate just ran the opposite direction, a small smirk gracing his lips as he directed the beast to the ground just as several guards exited the manor house.  They were immediately engulfed in an otherworldly green flame, their screams drawing more into the fray who were dispatched in a similar manner.

When the beast ran out of guards to slay Dorian slid from its neck and walked casually toward the door only to hesitate as it opened and a rather frantic looking middle aged man with a rapidly receding hairline was practically shoved out the door.  Arching his brow at the man Dorian inquired, “Magister Solinas I presume?”

“Yes,” the man drew the one word out into three distinct syllables, before straightening his robes and apparently finding his spine.  “I’m afraid I must demand to know what you’re doing here.”

Dorian snorted, not willing to offer the man any hint of civility as he strode directly to him and pulled his dragon tooth out from beneath his robes.  The hint of Solinas’ eyes widening in recognition was all Dorian needed to know to slam his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him crashing to the flagstone tiles below.

In the blink of an eye Dorian had his staff out and his blade at the man’s throat.  “I believe you have something of mine, a match to this piece and I’d appreciate its return before I get impatient and slit your throat before moving on to the next cowardly bastard hiding behind your door.”

“Now see here Pavus…”

“That’s Magister Pavus to you,” Dorian growled.  “My sending crystal please.”

“I don’t know…” Magister Solinas broke off as Dorian’s blade cut a thin line across his throat.  Holding up his hands he amended, “that is, I don’t have it on me…I need to have someone bring it to me.”

“Feel free to call out from where you are, but be aware that one wrong move on your associate’s behalf would end quite poorly for you.  And staffs will stay in the building thank you.”

Dorian pulled his blade away from the man’s throat enough that he could call out for assistance, only to have absolutely no response from inside the building.  Dorian’s own energy was flagging, the stress of keeping the spirit animating the dragon under control as well as his focus on the man at his feet beginning to war with the lack of sleep he’d obtained in the past several days.  Tapping his foot impatiently he watched as Magister Solinas began to sweat, the man calling out again, his tone this time decidedly more panic stricken.

Finally, just when Dorian was about to behead the fool and storm the house himself the door creaked open and a small elven girl, no older than seven appeared, only to hesitate in the doorway.  Dorian’s anger only climbed higher.  Really?  A group of grown men and women hiding behind a child…a slave.

Dorian put every bit of calm he could behind his words, “Come child, it’s fine.  I won’t hurt you.  I believe you have something of mine.”

“They said to bring this to you Messere,” the little girl stepped hesitantly forward, Bull’s dragon tooth clasped tightly in both her hands.

“Very good little one, if you’ll just come a little closer please.”

In halting steps she did exactly that, Dorian breathing a sigh of relief when he held the tooth in his off hand, his fingers feeling that the sending crystal was still securely fastened in it’s hollowed out section of the back of it.  Slipping the pendant around his neck where it nestled in with its mate Dorian scowled down at Solinas.  “How many more slaves in the house?”

“How should I know?” The man scowled back, and Dorian had reached the end of his patience, his blade slitting through the man’s throat before the child next to him could even complete her scream.

When the child ran he let her, his own attention turning toward the door as he spun his staff and sent out a fireball that blasted it from its hinges and rewarded him with another scream from inside.  Stepping through the still smoldering doorway, he threw up a barrier just in time to stop an ice bolt from slamming into his chest.

The thick, rich scent of blood hit his nose as he watched one of the Magisters summon a shade and Dorian backed back out the door, unsurprised to find them following him.  Apparently his own construct had been forgotten in the excitement of a fleeing foe and the moment the three mages stepped out the door Dorian rolled to the right and let the dragon take out them and their damn shade.

Unwilling to risk further attacks injuring innocents Dorian spun on his heel and commanded the dragon to drop its head, again climbing into his spot between its shoulders and taking to the sky.  He regretted not demanding to know which tower held Bull before giving in to his desire for vengeance, but how long could it possibly take him to find the right one given the speed the dragon flew.

 

When Dorian saw the first watchtower he circled it, expecting to see either guards or Bull appear only to find no one.  Unwilling to take a chance that Bull was too injured to signal his presence Dorian landed the dragon and blasted through the rotted wooden door into the decrepit keep.  He carefully plucked his way up far more stairs than he ever cared to see again only to find that the room at the top was empty, the floorboards little more than dust and with slightly less care he hurried back down to his mount and moved on.

The next two watchtowers provided the same results, although the upper floor on the second one had decayed so badly that he hadn’t even been forced to climb the stairs to assure himself that Bull could not possibly be there.  The difference at the fourth tower was immediate.  Not only was the roof in better repair but Dorian could swear he saw motion through the window as he flew around the tower.  Upon landing he found that the typical wooden door he’d been finding had been removed and the opening bricked over.

Drawing closer Dorian could feel the powerful push of an enchantment also guarding the one entrance and he hesitated, not trusting the entire tower not to come crumbling down around his feet if he blasted his way in.  Stepping back so that he could see the window from his spot on the ground he screamed Bull’s name at the top of his lungs.

When no response was forthcoming Dorian tried again, this time sending an ice bolt into the window ledge at the same time he called out.  A moment later he saw a familiar grey face peering down at him from the other side of the window, a wave of relief washing through him even though he couldn’t hear what Bull was trying to call down to him.

Irritated at not being able to communicate Dorian stormed back over to the dragon, quickly climbing into position and sending it into the air where he circled the tower before having the creature hover near the window.  “Amatus?”

Bull’s head appeared again a moment later, the expression on his face somewhere between horror and fascination as he realized just what Dorian was riding.  “Is that a…”

“Dragon, yes, long story and I’m afraid I’m running out of energy rather quickly,” Dorian yelled.  “The door at the bottom of the tower is enchanted, any chance of you trying it from the inside?”

“Sure Kadan, because I’d still be here if I could have just walked out,” Bull drawled, his eyes perusing the dragon from head to tail and back again.  “No door from up here, I’ve tried every inch of the place.”

“What about the roof?”

“I could possibly reach it, but it’s solid and the sheets aren’t long enough to string to the ground.”

Dorian frowned, his attention still straying to the wooden roof of the building.  “Stay near the window Bull, I’m going to try something.”

“Dorian…” Bull began, concern lacing the one word but Dorian had already urged the dragon into another circle around the tower, this time flying high enough to look down at the roof.  Pulling his staff out he cast a fireball at the side of the roof opposite where Bull was supposed to be standing, immediately casting ice afterwards to prevent the entire ceiling from going up in flames and he was left with a Qunari size hole in the roof.

Landing the dragon took a little more skill, but thankfully bones weighed nothing close to what a fully fleshed dragon clocked in at and by the time Dorian had hopped off and made his way across the roof to the hole Bull had pushed the bed over and had climbed up onto one of the sturdy posters.  His hand slammed into the wood at Dorian’s foot and startled a small squeak from Dorian as he leapt back, Bull leveraging himself up onto the roof with no assistance only a moment later.

“Did you seriously just ride in here on a dead dragon and then scream like a girl because I almost caught your foot?”  Bull chuckled, rolling over onto his back and staring up at Dorian.

“Would you prefer I climb back on that dragon and leave you here?”

“Hey!  That’s not very prince-like behavior,” Bull pouted, and Dorian couldn't help but chuckle.

“Is that what I am now?  Your prince in slightly battered robes?”

“Well, you did save me from the tower.”

“In that case I believe you owe me a kiss.  There is always a kiss involved,” Dorian muttered, putting out his hand to help Bull up only to find himself tugged down instead.

“Anything for you Kadan,” Bull whispered, taking Dorian’s lips in a kiss that started out soft only to deepen as they both slowly accepted the truth that they were here.  Together.  Alive.  

When they finally broke apart for air Dorian’s eyes were sparkling as he asked, “So, Bull, wanna ride the dragon?”


	3. Another Reason Dorian Hates the Storm Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Prompt Sunday: CPR? Bull administers CPR to Dorian after he drowns at the Storm Coast? Bonus points for a few broken ribs?

“Bull!”

The panic in the Boss’s voice had Bull spinning on his heel.  His eye tracked over where the Seeker was straightening, her breaths still coming in heavy pants.  Her head also swiveling towards where the Boss was kneeling in the stream of fast flowing glacier runoff and it was only then Bull realized he didn’t see Dorian. 

“Fuck.”  He broke into a run as he watched the Boss struggle with something in the water, his mind refusing to admit that it was actually someone until the Boss fell on her ass, Dorian’s limp, soaking body landing on top of her.

Bull was dropping to his knees even as the Boss whispered, “I don’t know what happened, he was with me and then a despair demon got between us and by the time I closed the rift…”

As his hands reached for Dorian, fingers instinctively reaching for the mage’s throat, Bull’s own mind was replaying the battle.  He vaguely remembered hearing a cry from his lover but Bull had been fighting a terror demon and hadn’t dared to turn his back on it for even a moment. Three minutes, maybe four and the fight had been over so whatever happened it had to have happened recently. 

Failing to find a pulse Bull shifted Dorian so he was lying flat on the ground, noting the gash on Dorian’s forehead as he quickly moved to kneel next to Dorian's still body, his hands braced over his chest.  

“Blood…there was so much blood in the water,” the Boss whispered to Cassandra as the warrior pulled their shaken Inquisitor into her arms. 

Bull missed Cassandra’s reply as he pressed firmly enough against Dorian’s chest to hear his ribs cracking, his movements quick as he silently counted to thirty before shifting so that he could tip Dorian’s head back.  Two deep quick breaths pushed into Dorian’s silent lungs and he was back to pressing his palms even harder against Dorian’s ribs.

“Bull, is he…”  The Boss started, breaking off when Bull growled deeply.  There would be no talk of that...outcome.  He wouldn’t lose his Kadan this way, to a six-inch-deep stream in the middle of the fucking Storm Coast.

Three times more he repeated the same steps, his actions becoming so desperate by the end that he was certain he’d broken at least half of Dorian’s ribs.  A small price to pay if only…

“Come on Kadan, not like this…” Bull finally whispered, the despair in his tone evident even to him as he locked his lips with Dorian’s and forced air into his lungs once more.

Bull wanted to weep with relief when Dorian’s body convulsed violently beneath him.  Water spewing from Dorian’s mouth as Bull tipped him onto his side only to draw a deep groan of pain from the mage.  Bull winced as Dorian coughed several times in succession, each one accompanied by another agonized groan.

When it appeared that Dorian had gotten all of the water out of his lungs Bull rolled the mage back onto his back, resting Dorian’s head in his lap.  “It’s ok Kadan, we’ve got you.”

“And who got the three hundred brontos that stepped on my chest?” Dorian whispered, his throat hoarse from regurgitating the water.

“Uh sorry ‘bout that,” Bull muttered sheepishly, prepared for Dorian to glare at him except the Boss piped up as soon as he finished speaking.

“Don’t listen to him, he saved your life.  I lost sight of you and…”

Dorian’s hand wandered to the three inch gash on his forehead that was still sluggishly bleeding.  Frowning, only to immediately wince, Dorian muttered, “Despair demon caught me, blasted me back.”

“Well by the time I closed the rift you were face down in the stream, not breathing.  Bull brought you back.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Cassandra’s added, respect evident in her tone.

“Lots of water on Seheron, you learn a few things,” Bull admitted, his mind flitting through other times in his life when he hadn’t been as lucky.  

“Amatus?”  Dorian reached for Bull and curled his hand around Bull’s neck, concern lacing the one word.  Leave it to his Kadan to nearly drown and still be worried about Bull’s discomfort.   Reaching up to claim Dorian’s hand with his own he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to each knuckle.

“It doesn’t always work.  Gotta admit you scared me a bit Kadan,” Bull chuffed, his fingers tightening against Dorian’s.  “I might have got a little overeager with the chest compressions.”

“I’d say a few broken ribs beats the alternative Amatus,” Dorian assured him with a slight grin.  “But I still hate this place.”


	4. New Friends and Old Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pun!anon here c: it's okay if you can't do it, you can't be expected to feel every prompt sent your way! if you would still want to write it without the puns, you're free to do so and I thank you.

“You skipping out on meeting the in-laws, Ser Fancy Britches?”

“What?”

“Your new mama…her caravan just arrived.”

Venhedis.  Dorian had known she was coming for months, she’d actually been on the road for weeks, Leliana’s people had confirmed yesterday that her carriage should be arriving within the next day, and still, he missed it.  Not that it was entirely his fault mind you, Dagna had needed some help with an experiment and between Harriett’s hammering and the waterfall and the fact that they were basically working in a cave he apparently hadn’t heard the scout’s horns.

With a mumbled apology to Dagna, and a quick thank you to Sera, Dorian tore out of the Undercroft as if Corypheus himself were nipping at his heels.  He rushed through the great hall while ignoring the snickers coming from behind Orlesian masks and practically flew down the stairs to find Bull, Evie and Varric talking to a stunning older Qunari woman.  Her horns curved back gently and were wrapped in so much gold she appeared to shimmer with it, her snow white hair falling down her back in a single thick braid.

Slowing as he hit the bottom of the stairs he still walked quickly up to the group who had stopped speaking in favor of watching him approach.  Smiling, he bowed politely but before he could say a word he was hefted into the air in a hug that had his back cracking.  “Oh, I like this one Ashkaari.  So proper and formal.”

“Ashkaari?” Dorian squeaked out as Tama slammed him back onto his feet, his knees almost buckling.

“One who thinks,” Tama said fondly, reaching up to pat one of Bull’s cheeks hard enough that had he been Dorian he’d have been on the ground.  “This one was always one step ahead of me.  There was a time…”

“Tama, wouldn’t you like to…”

In the blink of an eye Tama went from looking like someone’s favorite grandmother to strict mother, her spine straightening as her eyes narrowed when she swung her attention back to Bull.  “Did you just interrupt me, Ashkaari?”

And just like that it was like seeing a five year old Bull, his head hung slightly even though he still towered over the woman before him and his foot scrapped nervously at the ground.  “Uhm, yes ma’am.  And no ma’am.  Sorry ma’am.”

Tama just rolled her eyes slightly and turned her attention back to Dorian.  “Perhaps you might show me to my room and I can tell you more about Ashkaari.”

Dorian smiled and presented her with his arm.  “It would be my pleasure.”

“I believe Josephine has her in the blue ambassador suite,” Evie offered as they moved past her, Varric already shifting closer to where Bull still stood rooted in place.  “Tama, it has been my pleasure to meet you.”

“And I you child, I look forward to dining with you this evening,” Tama acknowledged with a graceful nod before allowing Dorian to sweep her up the stairs to the main hall where conversation came to a stop as the pair of them walked through the entry.

Feeling himself bristle at the Orlesians’ lack of respect Dorian was startled when Tama leaned closer to him and whispered, “What do you think they’d do if I let out a battle cry right now?”

If Dorian’s sharp bark of laughter was any indication, at least half of them would have screeched as though presented with a rift full of demons.  Shaking his head as he motioned Tama toward the door to the Chantry garden Dorian couldn’t miss the sparkle of mischief in the woman’s eyes, the words falling from his lips before he could think to censor them.  “He gets it from you, doesn’t he?”

“What’s that my dear?”

“His spark,” Dorian admitted, opening the door toward the ambassador wing for Tama only to have her pause in the doorway with him.

“That may be the kindest compliment anyone has ever given me,” the elderly woman admitted, tightening her grip on his arm.  “Though I think that spark has more to do with you these days than with anything I taught him.”

Dorian laughed.  “Obviously you haven’t been around us long enough yet.  We bicker non-stop.”

“Of course you do.  Because you are his equal in every way, of that I am certain,” Tama decreed with another sharp nod of her head that Dorian was starting to realize meant that she truly believed in what she was saying.  As they came to a stop before her door she grinned at him again, the years falling away as she whispered conspiratorially, “Now, do you want to hear all about my little Ashkaari?”

 

Several hours later Bull stood outside Tama’s door, and if he had been uncertain if Dorian was still with her that doubt vanished as the bold sounds of Dorian’s laughter mingled with his Tama’s.  Knocking politely, Bull waited and listened as the laughter died out for a moment only to flare back up again.  Fuck, he didn’t even have to be in the room and he knew that whatever stories Tama was telling Dorian would be ones he would prefer left unspoken.

Knocking again during a lull in the laughter, the door was opened presently by his Tama, looking completely at home with her hair picked out of its formal braid, silver strands replacing the rich chestnut of his memories.

“Ah, there you are.  I was just telling your Dorian about the time you and Vat stole the loaf of bread from the baker…” Tama greeted, embracing him tightly.

Bull groaned as he bent to kiss Tama’s cheek, he didn’t even need to look at his Kadan to know how big the smirk would be on his face.

“I had no idea your career in deception started so early, Amatus,” Dorian drawled when Bull released Tama, the smirk he had expected firmly in place.

“Some skills can’t be taught, Kadan…”

“Like learning how to bake bread,” Tama crowed from behind him.  “How many loaves did you burn before the baker finally decided your punishment was only punishing him?”

Dorian laughed, easy and bright, making his eyes twinkle. Bull suppressed another groan deciding that if hearing about his childhood made his lover this happy he’d happily suffer the embarrassment.

Bull ducked his head to hide his grin when Dorian stood and continued to stand until Tama situated herself on the single chair in the room before lowering himself back to the couch.  Something in him warmed at the sight of his lover paying the woman who’d raised him such respect.  “It wasn’t really that bad, Kadan…it was mostly Vat’s fault.   He kept getting egg shells in the dough and then when I went to help him the bread would burn.”

“And here I thought you a master at multi-tasking,” Dorian chided, nudging at Bull’s shoulder with a wicked grin.

“Only where it counts,” Bull grinned back, both he and Dorian’s heads swiveling toward Tama as the woman sighed heavily.

She sank further back into the chair and gave him a sharp nod.  “It is good to see you like this again, Ashkaari.  I had worried, after Seheron…”

“Tama…”

“No, don’t interrupt.  I know that you have done your best to follow the Qun but there was always a place in you Ashkaari, a spot deep inside that was searching for more, for the place that you belonged.”  Tama broke off with a little laugh as she looked around the room.  “It is a good place you have found here. A bit odd, but it suits you.”

That warm feeling in Bull’s chest seemed to spread at what amounted to his Tama’s blessing.  And as Bull sat looking at his past, his thigh brushing against his future, he couldn’t help but think that as usual, his Tama had it right.

 

 


	5. Rogue Agents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Prompt Sunday: Inception AU - Bull as Eames (forger); Dorian as Arthur (point man)

Magister Caldrion paused for a moment at the gates of the estate, and even from a distance Dorian could see the man frown as he took in the blue flames lighting the torches that stood sentinel on both sides of the entry.

“Fasta vass Varric, the Archon’s personal flames are always red,” Dorian hissed, mentally willing Caldrion to dismiss the oddity and continue on.

“Well it’s not like I’ve spent much time in Minrathous,” Varric grumbled, the blue flames beginning to take on a purple hue as the architect made the changes in his mind.

“Kaffas, no, don’t change them at this point,” Dorian growled, grabbing ahold of Varric as if he could physically stop the change.  Tapping his ear he contacted Bull, who was already inside.  “Bull, Varric got the torches wrong.  If Caldrion asks tell him you changed the front flames in a message of solidarity with the common folk or some such nonsense.”

“Will…what the fuck?”

“Tiny?” Varric’s voice echoed both in his ear and through the earpiece he was wearing.

“The entire inside just shifted…fuck, I couldn’t tell you exactly what changed but…Dorian?”  His name was a deep growl that Dorian knew came from deep in the man’s chest. 

“Sparkler, what did you do?”

Ignoring the questions plaguing him Dorian watched as Magister Caldrion swept past the guards and up the front walk, a bevy of slaves hurrying to open the door and see to his coat almost before he had even hit the front steps.  “Dorian, I asked you a question,” Bull growled again.

“He wasn’t buying the construct Bull, I had to change it,” Dorian admitted, ignoring Varric’s huff of annoyance.

Even through the earpiece Dorian could practically feel the tension his lover was vibrating with.  “Tell me you didn’t use your own memories.”

“Fasta vass, of course I did.  What else was I supposed to do?”

“You know better…”

“There was no choice…”

“There is _always_ a choice,” Bull practically roared, even Varric wincing as the sound poured through both their earpieces.

“Fine, then there was a choice and I made it.  Mae needs to know if Caldrion is on the up and up and this is our one chance to find out.  Now, are you going to stand here and argue with me or are you going to keep our good friend busy so we can finish this mission?”

Bull’s sigh echoed through the earpieces.  “Finish the mission.  But I swear Dorian when we get out of here you and I are going to have a long talk about going rogue.”

“I look forward to it Amatus…now go.  Archon Radonis is known for not leaving his guest’s waiting.”

 

 

The Iron Bull took one last look at himself in the mirror, straightening the folded collars of the black Tevinter robes his alter ego wore before giving one of Radonis’s trademark smirks.  Much as he might want to throttle his lover right now, he had to admit Dorian was right about one thing, the information they were gathering today was critical to the long-term survival of the Lucerni.  Because as not only a member of Archon Radonis’s consiliare, but also considered by many to be the front runner to being named his successor, Magister Caldrion could become the most influencial member of Magister Tilani’s reformation group.  Unless he was actually only courting the Lucerni to gain information for the Archon.  And that little distinction was what they were here today to figure out.

Certain that his projection of actually being the Archon would hold, Bull had hardly moved one step toward the door before the slave standing beside sprang into motion, hurrying to pull the door open as far as possible as Bull swept through it and on down the hallway.

By the time he reached the top of the staircase Magister Caldrion was casually looking at a vast collection of some sort of magical shit that occupied the entry table and Bull found himself hoping that the man wouldn’t question what any of it was.  Varric’s copy of the table had been clean, holding only a bowl containing seven oranges and a tall vase filled with orchids.  As Caldrion’s expression held no question Bull assumed that Dorian’s memory, though several years old, was the correct one.  “Magister Caldrion, so good of you to join me.”

The Magister steepled his fingers and bowed deeply.  “Archon, I am always available should you have need of my services.”

Bull kept his expression bland as he nodded his head slightly in response, his mind latching on to the fact that it appeared Dorian’s contact had actually been correct and Caldrion was somewhat more than just an advisor to Radonis.  “Perhaps we can discuss your services after the meeting.”

“Of course Archon,” Caldrion whispered with just a hint of a smile.

Motioning for the Magister to proceed him down the hallway towards Radonis’s office Bull’s thoughts changed from how to get the information they required from the man before him to how to keep the meeting running until the music started.  Because he already had the only ‘Vint in his bed he ever wanted, he had no desire for another.

 

“That was a bad call Sparkler,” Varric grumbled as they watched the door shut behind Magister Caldrion.

“You know what’s at stake here for Mae, Varric.  Besides, I didn’t take over the whole landscape, just the Archon’s residence.  If things go upside down it’s still on you to get us out before the constructs can fuck things up.”

Varric sighed heavily, his shoulders heaving as he watched Dorian critically.  “Fine, by now Bull should have had a chance to ask our fair Magister about…Dorian, hey Dorian, you listening…”

Dorian indeed knew that Varric was speaking, but nothing he had to say mattered compared to the man that was currently walking toward them.  Tall, broad shouldered with just a hint of grey lightening his dark hair the man looked exactly the same as he had the last time Dorian had seen him over seven years ago.  “Venhedis.”

Varric turned to see what had caught Dorian’s attention.  “Fuck Sparkler, what’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know.  He should be in Qarinus.  And even if he wasn’t there is no way Caldrion should be broadcasting him here, he didn’t come into favor until after Father was dismissed from the consiliare.”

“I don’t like the feel of this Sparkler.  You sure the residence is all you brought to the party?”

“Fasta vass, apparently not,” Dorian growled, reluctant to admit that his unresolved issues with his father could have prompted him to drag the man into existence looking exactly the way he had when he had still been in favor with the Archon.  Kaffas, if his father was in favor at the moment he’d be headed for the Archon’s residence.  “I’ll deal with him, you go to Magister Caldrion’s office as planned.  If Bull doesn’t get the information we need you need to get that safe open.”

Varric’s attention was bouncing between Dorian and his father, who was now getting disturbingly close.  “This is a bad idea Sparkler.  We don’t interact with people we know in the landscape for a reason.”

“Yes, well I can’t just let him walk into Bull’s private meeting now can I?” Dorian hissed, shouldering past Varric and continuing their conversation over the ear piece.  “Go.  I can handle this.”

“You hear that music start you get ready to come out Sparkler…do not make me come find you,” Varric growled as he headed toward the Magisterium.

Dorian heard a mic keyed twice and knew it was Bull, who didn’t dare to blow his cover by saying anything.  But by then Dorian was focused on shifting his appearance so that he looked like he did ten years ago, a self he normally did his best to avoid because if he had truly walked into the past he would right now be sitting in some shitty little dive bar down near the docks hoping that perhaps he’d be able to interest a sailor on leave into paying for his drinks.

Dorian shivered at the memory before forcing it under.  He knew better than to delve too deep into memories here, much longer and he’d have likely found himself back in that bar instead of here on the poshest street that Minrathous had to offer.  Moving quickly across the street he intercepted his target only two houses short of the Archon’s residence.  “Hello, Father.”

 

Bull tapped his ear piece twice again as discretely as possible, about thirty seconds from excusing himself from the meeting when heavy breathing started in his ear followed by Varric panting, “Fuck, give me a minute Tiny.  Had to ditch a couple of constructs on the way Caldrion’s office.  Oh, and Sparkler managed to drag Halward to the party.  He’s currently distracting…”

“Fuck,” Bull growled under his breath, covering the noise with a cough.  He’d known Dorian using his own memories wasn’t a good idea, the ‘Vint was the only person he’d ever met who possibly had more unresolved issues than he did. 

“Is everything all right Rae?” Magister Caldrion queried as he looked over his shoulder from where he was currently pouring them both a drink from the bar he’d uncovered behind a silk screen depicting a rather gruesome battle between Qunari and Tevinter forces.

“Yes, just wondering when we’re going to stop playing nice and get down to business.”

“Mmmmm, I like it when you get all powerful Archon on me,” Caldrion practically purred as he brought the drinks over to where they were sitting and settled them on the small table between their seats.

“Keep me waiting much longer and you’ll find out just how powerful I can be,” Bull grumbled, s

.quaring his shoulders and letting his fingers linger on the staff he had set down next to him.  “Do you have any new information for me or not?”

When Caldrion bypassed his own chair in favor of folding himself down onto his knees before Bull, his head bowed in submission Bull got a sense that the man was devoted to something other than political subterfuge.

 

Varric closed the door to Magister Caldrion’s private office behind him, going instinctively for the safe that he had placed behind a rather staid portrait of the Magister and his wife.  He had just removed the painting and set it to the side when the soft sounds of a mandolin echoed through the room.  Shit, five minutes left and he hadn’t even gotten the safe open yet.

 

The soft lilting notes of the mandolin were a sharp contrast to Halward Pavus’s sneer.  “I’m not sure what possessed you to believe I’d release more of your inheritance Dorian.  Indeed, I can hardly believe you still think you have an inheritance to be entitled to.”

Dorian scoffed, making sure to put every ounce of belligerence he possessed into his expression just as his younger self would have.  “Let’s not be dramatic Father, unless you plan on replacing mother with a younger model we all know I’m the only hope for an heir you’re likely to find.”

“An heir who would rather slum his way through the back alleys of this city than come home and take on the responsibilities that face him.”

Dorian couldn’t quite suppress the roll of his eyes. “You mean come home and put on the mask you expect me to wear for the rest of my life.”

“Please Dorian, this isn’t a conversation for the streets.”

 _Don’t actually speak your perversions aloud where someone might hear._   The words remained unspoken but heard clearly by both parties, his father’s pointed stare matching the crescendo of the music only Dorian could hear.  He had done it.  Had stood here for twenty minutes and progressively pissed his father off so that he was certain even if he walked away now the man would only turn back the way he came, no longer in any state of mind to confront the Archon.

 

For Bull the music came at just the right moment, Magister Caldrion’s fingers having already unbuckled the long formal overcoat Bull wore and beginning to work their way toward the strings of his loose fitting pants.  It was entirely possible that Varric would find some bit of subterfuge in the man’s safe but Bull had a feeling the only thing the Magister was hiding was his rather subservient relationship with the Archon.

“You’re very tense Rae,” Magister Caldrion drawled, his fingers kneading at the firm muscles along Bull’s thighs.

“It’s that upstart Tilani and her little group, they’re starting to become quite a nuisance,” Bull growled, seeing a slight spark of concern flit across Caldrion’s face before he lowered his head and placed a kiss against Bull’s knee.

“She is nothing and no one.  Although if I cannot distract you from thoughts of her perhaps it is I who am doing something wrong,” Caldrion pouted, his lips moving up Bull’s thigh.

“Consider her forgotten,” Bull whispered, moving to let his finger card through Caldrion’s hair and gaining him a happy hum from the Magister.

 

Varric pulled open the safe and was surprised to find only a small velvet box lying on top of a thin white envelope.  Pulling both out of the safe he opened the box to find a pair of matching men’s wedding bands, twin serpents intertwined, one crafted in nevarrite and one of dragon bone.

“Guess you’re having an interesting time Tiny,” Varric muttered to himself as he set the box back into the safe and turned his attention to the envelope, the only contents a small painted portrait of Archon Raedonis.  Varric chuckled, for all the drama, it would appear their mark was clean.

 

“Your mother is wasting away from grief Dorian,” Halward Pavus sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot impatiently.

“Yes, I’m quite certain _that’s_ what’s ailing mother and not all the wine she imbibes to remain numb to the realities of her life.”  Dorian wasn’t certain who was more surprised when the words tumbled from him.  Certainly his father’s shocked gasp would make one think it was him but Dorian had certainly never consciously intended to be so blunt.  But then again, he’d never dreamed of confronting his father in the dream state either.

Listening to the last notes of the song play out Dorian debated whether to burn the entire village down with the bridge.  In the end it was the superior expression on his father’s face that swayed him and he took a single step closer to the man who’d raised him.  “But don’t worry about all those failings of yours father.  I assure you I’ve moved on and am perfect content with my life and my Qunari lover.”

 

Dorian woke with a jerk, his father’s shocked expression still at the forefront of his mind as Sera held him down in his chair.  “Easy there, Fancy Britches.  Can’t have you falling on the floor and cracking open that head of yours.”

Dorian chuckled, letting his eyes wander around the room where Krem was leaning over Bull and Dagna was busy waking up Varric.  “Where’s Caldrion?”

“Cassandra’s already wheeling him to his room, Dagna says he should be waking up within ten minutes, she stopped the sedative five minutes after you guys went under.  Cass will stay with him until she’s certain he wakes up.”

“Good,” Varric piped up from across the room.  “Because unless Tiny has something to say to the contrary it appears our Magister’s only misdeed is falling for the wrong man.”

Dorian’s brow arched.  There had been rumors of course but…

“The only mystery Caldrion seemed to wonder about was the one in my pants,” Bull confirmed with a smirk.

“Dinna think _that_ was a mystery to anyone in Thedas,” Sera chirped, making the entire room erupt into laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.  I was lucky to get out of there with my dignity,” Bull grumbled, scowling up at Krem until the smaller man stepped back and let Bull get to his feet.

Dorian quickly followed suit, clearing his throat and clapping his hands together to get everyone’s attention.  “And on that note, let’s get things broken down people.  We need this place to be back to a stockroom in five minutes.  I’ll go on ahead and let Maevaris know her most recent recruit could be a most valuable one.”

Bull’s low growl echoed through the room.  “Actually, Varric, you contact Maevaris.  Dorian and I have an appointment to discuss the problems with improvising during the middle of a mission.”

“Now see here, I did what I had to and everything worked out...oomph,” Dorian broke off when Bull picked him up like a sack of potatoes and slung him over his shoulder.

“How did things with daddy dearest go anyway?” Varric called out as the pair headed for the door.

Pulling his attention away from Bull’s ass, because really, if Bull was going to carry him this way where else was he to look, Dorian looked up at Varric and grinned.  “It was very…cathartic.”


	6. Hidden Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Prompt Sunday! - It's no secret that The Iron Bull has a gift to read people, but Dorian wants to witness this first hand for himself how true this is. So, he asked him "Bull, I'd like you to give me a private reading. Tell me everything you've ever picked up about me and how you were able to tell" He crossed his arms. Bull laughs and smirks his way "Are you trying to say you don't believe me?" "I don't know, I hear you're decent liar as well" "Alright, then, I'll show you" he smiles

Bull shook his head slowly as he watched Varric approach Cassandra’s table, two tankards of ale in the dwarf’s hands and a cocky grin on his face.

“What?” Dorian demanded from his seat next to Bull.

“He’s never gonna win her that way,” Bull explained with a nod in the couple’s direction.

Dorian choked on his beer, prompting Bull to give him a firm whump on the back.  “Who?  Varric?  And Cassandra?  Are you mad?”

“Not nearly as much as he is right now.  You can tell from the way she’s got her chair tilted toward the corner that she doesn’t want company.  Plus, that cocky grin, it’s just going to piss her off.”

The pair watched as Varric set both drinks down on the table, his words to Cassandra too soft to be heard over the noise of the bar but there was no doubting whatever it was had annoyed the warrior, her face drawing up into a scowl as she shook her head vehemently.  Varric shrugged and gestured toward the drinks and Cassandra grinned, picked hers up and saluted Varric, then took a deep drink and turned her attention back to the book she’d been reading.

“See, told you,” Bull grinned as the pair of them watched Varric move off to join a group of Cullen’s men, the table bursting into laughter moments later.

“So Cassandra turned down Varric, you might as well have predicted the sun would rise this morning.”

“Are you saying you doubt my abilities?” Bull gasped, pretending outrage.

Dorian arched one brow.  “I’m saying I want you to give me a private reading.  You tell me everything you’ve ever picked up about me and how you were able to tell and maybe…just maybe I’ll start to believe you.”

“I’m hurt Kadan, honestly.”

Dorian snorted.  “And you claim to be a good liar.”

Bull affected Dorian’s arched brow.  “I still think this is just an excuse to get me alone so you can have your wicked way with me but fine, come on.”

Dorian’s little indrawn breath told Bull that he’d at least struck partially true with the last sentence, and as they climbed the stairs toward his room he tried to think of just what he could tell Dorian that Dorian would actually want to hear.  Because the mage was right, Bull had been reading him since day one, but that didn’t mean that most of the things Bull had realized were truths Dorian wanted to face yet.

When they entered Bull’s room Dorian moved to the center of it before turning to face Bull, his hands raised slightly from his sides.  “So, where do you want me?”

“Let’s just start right there,” Bull said, letting the door close quietly behind him before leaning against it.  “You asked that question because in the time it took us to climb two flights of stairs you began to doubt whether you really wanted to hear what I had to say.  By moving your hands away from your sides you’re offering yourself to me, trying to change the direction of the conversation by distracting me with your body.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and sighed heavily but otherwise gave no further response, which only encouraged Bull to grin.  “See, now you’re going to go all silent, thinking that I’m interpreting your words, but I don’t need you to say a thing to know what you’re thinking Kadan.  It’s like the first time we met…”

“When you told Evie to watch out for me because I was pretty?” Dorian snickered.

“Well, that was the game you were playing, right?  I mean we walked in to find you single-handedly dispatching a rift full of demons and then you turned on the charm, flirting with Evie as if seduction was your only skill.”

“I’ve never seen you complain,” Dorian grinned, but his shoulders remained hunched.

“I never said you weren’t good at it,” Bull countered, closing the distance between them.  “I said that you use your good looks like a shield to keep people from knowing just how powerful a mage you actually are.  A useful skill in Tevinter I’m sure, but almost a necessity down here if you wanted to avoid Templar attention.”

“You obviously have me confused with Solas…I have never shied away from attention in my life.”

“Nice deflection but it doesn’t change the truth,” Bull chuckled, reaching out to run one finger over Dorian’s shoulder.  “See, the way your shoulders are curled in, you’re protecting yourself from what I’m saying to you but you should know by now Kadan I’d never knowingly hurt you.”

“Well, there was that time last month…”

Bull stopped directly in front of Dorian, his brow arching again as the mage’s words stumbled to a stop.  “Another deflection.  Keep it up and I’m going to call an end to this.  I have no desire to share truths with you you’re not ready to hear.”

Dorian’s eyes snapped shut as if he could physically keep Bull’s words out, but a moment later they opened again, his gaze meeting Bull’s steadily as he sighed softly.  “No, I truly want to hear what you have to say.  I need to know…”

“Alright then, sit down,” Bull encouraged, taking Dorian’s hand and leading him to the oversized, plush chair the mage preferred to curl up in before pulling his own sturdier, unpadded chair over so he could sit directly in front of Dorian. 

Bull grinned when Dorian leaned forward the moment Bull sat, his fingers already moving toward Bull’s knee as a soft heat began to work at the tight joint.  “See, that right there is the second thing I noticed about you.  You remind me of the durian fruit that grows in Seheron.  It is hard and prickly and doesn’t smell the best on the vine, meaning that most people pass it by, choose a papaya or an orange instead.  But for those who take the time…ah, there is nothing sweeter than the inside of a durian.”

Even with his head ducked, his eyes locked on Bull’s knee as though it held the secrets of the universe, Bull could see that Dorian’s cheeks were flushed.  Dorian cleared his throat several times before finally speaking.  “Now who is making offers?”

Bull’s laugh was rich and deep.  “I’d be remiss if I didn’t notice that about you too Kadan.  Even beneath all that Tevinter bullshit you’re the most sensual man I’ve ever known.  It shows in everything you do.  The way you hold a book, the way you twirl your staff…”

Dorian snorted.  “Has that line _ever_ worked for you?”

“Hey, it got me you didn’t it?” Bull answered, nudging his knee up into Dorian’s hands.

“I suppose it did,” Dorian admitted with a little laugh.  “That has to be more telling than anything else.”

“It tells me I’m a lucky man,” Bull whispered as he laid his hand over Dorian’s, stilling the mage’s ministrations.  “In the end that’s the most important thing, that I know you’re happy here even though the snow still drifts in through the roof and the curtains are singed.  I see it when you come through the door, the way your shoulder’s relax and you always let out a little content sigh.”

The eyes that met him this time were shiny with unshed tears and it took Dorian a moment to ask.  “And you Amatus?  Can the same be said about you?”

“Kadan, if you can’t tell that my day brightens the moment you walk into it then I’m afraid you’ve gone blind.”

“Yes, well, I am rather radiant.”

Bull laughed and shook his head, the smile on his face reaching all the way to shine in his eye as he tugged on Dorian’s hand until he had the mage perched on his lap.  “That you are Kadan, that you are.”


	7. Immortal Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Sunday Prompt – Adoribull – Persephone!Bull and Hades!Dorian – The Iron Bull the god of fertility, spring and a minor ruler of life as felt always a curious attraction for the lord of the Underworld who is mistreated by the rest of the gods. Dorian, God of death and knowledge, who is last to arrive and first to leave in the divine reunions or festivities, the others always speaking ill of him for some reason. Until Bull decides to steal him away one day.

“Leaving us already for your dead, brother?”

Dorian considered it a success that he didn’t wince at Zeus’s booming voice echoing in his ear or the way the god insisted on slapping him on the shoulder hard enough to dislocate it.  But then again, when the man had been using the same line for the past five hundred years it was easier to become immune to the taunt. 

“Yes, well death waits for no man, brother,” Poseidon boomed from the other side of Dorian, “Oh, except, in this case it does…”

The pair cackled at their own perceived wit, forcing Dorian to summon up a small smile that he could only hope would appease the pair and allow him to slip away.  A hope that was dashed as Hera made her way over to them, her smile reminding Dorian entirely too much of the asp she had immortalized in gold wrapped around her arm.  “Don’t tell me you’re leaving so soon Dori, I’m quite certain Hercules will be disappointed if he doesn’t get to see you.”

Dorian barely resisted rolling his eyes.  Help one minor god, one who he might add had been polite enough to honestly state his desires, and Hera would never let him forget it.  This, _this_ was why he tried to avoid these little gatherings of Zeus’s, it would seem that at some point he’d offended almost every god here either by granting a boon to someone they despised or actually having claim a lover when the time came.

Was it any wonder that he found it simpler, and quieter, to stay in the underworld? “I’m afraid I’ve been gone entirely too long as is sister.  We shall have to have a reunion another time,” Dorian offered gently.  _When the Underworld freezes over_ , is what he wanted to add but didn’t.  Not bothering to wait for Hera to come up with another excuse to blame him for the fact that Zeus’s bastard was now immortal Dorian clicked his fingers and found himself back in his familiar surroundings.  Sighing softly, he dropped onto the plush couch, kicked his feet up on the table and just enjoyed the silence.

 

 

“Still mooning over the god of death?”  Krem whispered in Bull’s ear, flicking the tip of it playfully.

“Not mooning over anyone,” Bull grumbled, his fingers caressing the delicate orchid before him regretfully, the bloom already beginning to pale with death.  He struggled not to show his discomfort with the cut plants that had been displayed so ostentatiously around the room, knowing that Hera only insisted upon cut stems rather than live plants because it annoyed him.

“Well, that’s a relief then because from where I’m standing it sure looked like it and I’d hate to have to remind you that your job and his are on the opposite ends of the spectrum.”

“Remind me again why I bring you with me to things like this,” Bull asked, scowling at his attendant.  From the first day he’d shown up in Bull’s temple Krem had refused to be called a handmaiden, insisting that while male attendant’s might be rare within the Parthenon Bull could just get used to him.

“Because without me you’d have no one to talk to,” Krem grinned, snagging a plate of ambrosia from a passing servant only to have it removed from his hand immediately.

“Nice try Krem puff, but really immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“So says the god of nature…”

“Yeah, but look at him,” Bull nodded in Dorian’s direction just in time to see the god disappear, again leaving the party almost as soon as he’d arrived.  “Imagine an eternity trapped with people who continue to become attached to mortals…no offense…only to be pissed when their threads are cut and Dorian has to take them.”

Krem arched his brow and tsk’d.  “Like I said…smitten.  You really have to get over this attraction you have for death Chief.”

“It’s just not fair.  To be hated for doing one’s job.  And it’s not like he asked to rule the Underworld.  He’s the eldest, he should have had his pick but Zeus and Poseidon ran roughshod over him and now all they do is complain when he does his job.”

Krem had progressed to rolling his eyes.  It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d heard Bull’s arguments about how mistreated the god of death was.  “Chief, I mean this with the utmost respect, mostly because I don’t want to end up on your bad side, but you either need to get over this infatuation you have with Dorian or bed him.  Maybe if you spent some time with one of the wood nymphs…”

Tuning out Krem Bull focused his attention on the other side of the room where Zeus and Poseidon were continuing to bash Dorian for how seriously he took his job, Poseidon suggesting that the god needed to find a consort to loosen him up before he forgot what fun was.  Bull found himself growling, Krem’s hand moving to lay lightly against his arm as if the mortal could truly stop him if he decided to cross the room and tell the two gods exactly what he thought of their decadent, useless lifestyles.

“Not now Chief,” Krem hissed, his nails digging into Bull’s skin, and with a huff of frustration Bull transported them both from Olympus back to his forest temple.

 

Dorian was restless. 

A fact which was only exacerbated when Aeacus insisted on discussing the judgments that he and his brothers couldn’t agree on.  Disagreements between the three about the fate of the souls sent before them weren’t unusual, but as there were three of them typically the majority rule decided.  On occasion however, for a variety of reasons Dorian had learned not to look into too closely, one of the brothers would refuse to judge a soul, leaving the final decision to Dorian.

One could easily believe that as the god of death, judgements came easy to Dorian, but they would have been mistaken.  Dorian found that all too frequently he became mired in the day to day actions of mortals, finding it hard to decide which of those actions should weigh heavier than others.  It was one of the reasons Dorian had enlisted Aeacus’s, and eventually his brothers, help when the man had first arrived in Hades.

As Aeacus continued droning on, Dorian eventually just stopped in his tracks, a hint of a grin twitching at his lips as Aeacus continued down the covered walkway they had been treading for several steps before stopping and turning to give Dorian an irritated look.  Yet another reason Dorian appreciated the man, there were far too few souls, mortal or immortal, who dared to look at him with such honest frustration. 

As the silence between the men stretched out Aeacus finally broke the stalemate.  “My lord?”

“I find that I am unsuited to place judgement today,” Dorian admitted, ignoring Aeacus’s eye roll.

“Well, you might have mentioned that before I wasted my breath describing the cases to you.”

“That would imply you still required breathing,” Dorian teased. 

“You possess a unique gift my lord to exhaust even the dead.”

“Well, we all must have our talents.”  Dorian’s mock sigh gained him another eye roll before his attendant bowed deeply.

“I shall leave you to your musings then my lord, my brother’s await my return.”

Dorian waved him off, his mind already moving on as he tried to figure out just what the cause of his restlessness was.   It was rare for him to be unhappy with his role in the Underworld, but if he tried to pinpoint the beginnings of his current malaise he had to admit it had started at Zeus’s gathering a week ago.  Perhaps even worse Dorian had a sneaking suspicion that what he was feeling was…loneliness.

Dorian’s bark of laughter startled his peacocks into the air, their vibrant feathers a stark relief to his dark world and yet another reminder of Zeus’s party.  Or more specifically Hera, and how very angry she had been when she’d realized he’d tricked her out of a dozen of the prized birds.  He truly failed to understand how, when he hated his brothers and sisters, he could still miss interacting with them.  It just seemed like such a mortal failing.

With a snort of derision at the direction his thoughts had taken him Dorian hastened down the walkway back to his palace.  He would spend time in his baths, perhaps indulge in a nap and then see to the judgements Aeacus was certain to have left on his desk.  He was a god, such maudlin emotions as regret and loneliness were beneath him.  He had duties to attend to.

 

 

As Bull walked his gardens, his eye traveling from old growth to new blooms, he found himself again thinking of death.  If he had been mildly interested in the god before, Krem’s insistence that he make up his mind one way or the other had planted a seed within Bull’s mind.  One that was proving to be a remarkably hardy thing, refusing to die even when he struggled to ignore it, instead sprouting until Bull was almost overwhelmed by the need to reach out to the lord who should be his opposite in everything.

Except, Bull acknowledged as he bent to pinch off a dead bud from one of the water lilies that spread across his pond, death was as natural a part of life as birth.  As he looked across his gardens, the sun shining down on the multitude of colors, butterflies and hummingbirds flitting from bloom to bloom, Bull made his decision.   Snapping his fingers he transported before he could change his mind, only realizing when he found himself standing before a soaking wet god of death wrapped only in a black towel that perhaps he should have announced his intentions first.

 

 

Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise at a giant of a man appeared in his bedroom, the white robes draping from one shoulder that did nothing to hide the expanse of silver skin behind them, indicated he was a god of some form.  Dorian would guess something having to do with nature considering the crown of flowers that was perched somewhat precariously atop the man’s head, looping around one of two horns that were wider than the god’s shoulders. 

Recovering with a slight shake of his head Dorian arched one brow at the man.  “Is there some reason you have materialized in my bedroom?”

The man before him grinned, a broad thing showing entirely too much tooth, as he looked Dorian up and down, his attention lingering at the towel around Dorian’s waist before moving his gaze back up to look Dorian in the eye.  Or his eye that is, the man only had one, the other being covered with a metal eyepatch that, if _Dorian’s_ eyes were to be believed, was engraved with a sunflower.  “Been thinking about you,” the god finally growled out, his voice deep, every word pouring over Dorian almost like a caress.

With a snap of his fingers Dorian was clothed in his usual robes.  None of that white Parthenon shit for him.  He preferred black, formfitting leather pants that didn’t show blood with robes overlaying it, fastened with silver buckles that reflected the light and complimented his copper skin where it lay bare over one shoulder.  “I’m certainly worth extensive thought,” Dorian found himself purring, not certain what it was about the man before him that attracted him, but enjoying the rare interaction all the same.  “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage though…”

“Bull,” the mountain of a man answered, giving Dorian a wry grin in response to Dorian’s incredulous look.  “Yes, that really is my name.  I’m afraid I was quite a surprise to mother and I’ve found the name is memorable so I’ve kept it.”

“Well, yes, it would be that,” Dorian admitted with a little nod.  “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing in my bedchamber.”

“Your brothers are assholes.”

Dorian’s laugh was instant and bright, making Bull grin that toothy grin of his again as he shrugged.  “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve seen you at the gatherings and you’re always the last one to arrive and the first one to leave...and it always seems to be their fault.”

“Yes, well, I won’t argue with you, but if it wasn’t them it would be someone else.  I’m not exactly well liked above ground.”

Bull looked around the room, his attention settling on the window that looked out over Dorian’s territory, the stark black rocks and fields of lava interrupted only by towering pillars of volcanic rock.  Only near to the palace did the landscape change, a field of green grass circling fountains of white marble a stark contrast to the rest of the Underworld.  Turning his attention back to Dorian Bull’s voice was quiet and very serious as he asked, “Doesn’t it get lonely?”

Another bark of laughter from Dorian, this one darker and decidedly bitter as Bull’s words dared to echo Dorian’s earlier thoughts.  Only when he trusted he could get the words out evenly did he speak.  “I am the god of death, who am I to complain of loneliness.”

“A god you may be, but still a man,” Bull countered, closing the distance between them and raising one hand to brush the back of his fingers lightly across Dorian’s bare shoulder.  “Do you not yearn for the touch of another?”

Stepping away from Bull’s touch was surprisingly more difficult than he’d anticipated it to be and Dorian was careful to keep his distance as he slid past the god to move to the window.  Refusing to look at the god, Dorian allowed his bitterness to seep into his words.  “Let me guess, god of regrowth?  Only Demeter raises children who seem so _human_.”

The Bull’s laugh surprised him, the boom of it echoing through the room even as Dorian caught sight of the man shaking his head slowly in the window glass’s reflection.  “Nice deflection, but being accused of being too human is hardly the worst insult I’ve ever encountered.”

Dorian frowned at that, some part of him he hated to acknowledge not liking the thought of anyone daring to insult the gentle giant.  Which was ridiculous, because the man was a god himself, and certainly capable of defending his own honor.  Besides, he hardly knew him. 

“Who has dared to insult you?”  Shit, that was most certainly not what he’d intended to say.  Dorian ignored his startled reflection in the glass to watch as Bull shifted behind him, the large god’s shoulders relaxing just a tad as his expression softened.

“Eh, nothing to worry about,” Bull shrugged.  “It’s just not common for a man to be in charge of the fertility of anything.   Shit, that didn’t come out right.  I mean…”

Dorian chuckled and put the man out of his misery.  “I know what you mean.”

This time the Bull’s shoulders drooped in the reflection and he scowled at Dorian’s back before sighing, “I don’t honestly know what I’m doing here.  I just think it’s bullshit that you work so hard to keep the balance of life and death while your brothers fuck off at every opportunity and then you can’t even relax on the rare occasion you take time to be with the rest of us.  I guess I just wanted to say that I’m around if you ever feel like getting topside and I don’t know, having a conversation or something.”

Dorian had to bite back a grin.  There was just something so…honest about the Bull and he was offering things that until a week ago Dorian hadn’t even known he was missing.  But he was afraid that if he laughed or smiled right now Bull would think he was laughing at him and really, it wasn’t that it was just that… 

“Ok.”

Bull’s head snapped up, his gaze drilling into the back of Dorian’s skull.  “Ok, what?”

“Ok, I think I’d like to visit with you sometime.  You can tell me all about growing things.  I have to admit, I’m not very good with that side of the cycle,” Dorian added, turning to face Bull with a wry grin.

“I could say the same.  I have to fight tears at every gathering because your sister insists on using cut plants in her displays.  She knows how much that bothers me,” Bull admitted with his own slight grin.

“Yes, well Hera’s always been a bitch,” Dorian shrugged, then grinned broadly.  “Did you know I bested her in a contest of wits some decades ago and won a dozen of her prized birds?”

“Really?”

The man really was handsome when he smiled, and Dorian found that he liked being the cause of that toothy grin.  Striding over to Bull he looped one of his arms through Bull’s.  “Really.  Would you like to see them?”

“Dorian, I can think of nothing I’d like more.”


	8. Bordello Pants of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adoribull prompt, dorian attempts to fix bull's tasteless wardrobe

“Bull, we simply must go to Val Royeaux.”

The Iron Bull looked up from his axe, setting the sharpening stone to the side as he took in the sight of his lover, standing with arms akimbo as he scowled over at Bull.  Figuring Dorian wouldn’t appreciate Bull comparing that stance to one Bull’s tama used to take, Bull settled instead for asking, “Any particular reason?”

Dorian rolled his eyes before gesturing wildly toward Bull’s dresser.  “I cannot abide by these rags you insist on calling a wardrobe.”

“Hey now, Krem keeps them from being rags…”

“Mending a rag does not make it any less a rag,” Dorian sighed, before pulling out the big guns.  “Besides, I thought perhaps we could stop in that store that sells those little cakes…”

“You are a cruel man Kadan,” Bull grumbled, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth at the grin that Dorian got as soon as he knew he’d won.  Besides, what difference did it make what pants he wore?  If Dorian wanted him in something, he’d wear it.

 

 

“I am not wearing these,” Bull grumbled as he took in his reflection in the full length mirror, Dorian contemplating the tight fitting leather leggings Bull was currently encased in.

“I don’t know Amatus, they certainly…highlight…certain features,” Dorian muttered, biting at his lower lip to keep from laughing.

“Pretty sure my balls are numb,” Bull scowled at Dorian’s reflection, ignoring the gasp from the tailor standing to the side.

“Yes, well, perhaps something a bit less…constrictive,” Dorian agreed, although Bull noticed him sneaking one more look at Bull’s ass as he headed behind the changing curtain.

The tailors next option Bull refused to even step from behind the curtain in.  Quite honestly, he had at first thought the tailor got his pants confused with a pair for a dwarf but the man assured him quite sincerely that knee-length pants paired with boots were all the rage this season. 

The third pair Bull actually liked.  They were roomy and actually reached his ankles.  Unfortunately they were also a soft dusky rose color that almost matched the tint of Dorian’s cheeks when he stepped from behind the curtain.

“No.  Just no.  Next,” the mage muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose and motioned for the tailor’s assistant to bring him another glass of wine.

 

Over the course of the afternoon Dorian learned why Bull stuck to the pants that he apparently bought from Tal-Vashoth traders when he ran across them in his travels.  And by the time the tailor actually had Bull parade out in a pair of split mage robes Dorian had not only had enough but he had finally begun to see the humor in attempting to fit someone the size of Bull into normal human clothing. 

“Enough, I’ve seen enough,” Dorian called out as Bull disappeared behind the screen, the tailor sagging with what appeared to be relief.

“Thank Koslun,” Bull bellowed out, stepping from behind the screen a few moments later clad in his usual yellow and red striped monstrosities. 

“Come on Amatus, let’s go get some of those little cakes you like,” Dorian muttered, disappointed that his quest had turned up absolutely nothing.

“You know, I could probably have Krem sew up something a little more subdued,” Bull offered as he held the door open for Dorian and they stepped out onto the street.

Dorian just shook his head and grinned.  “It’s alright Amatus, I have accepted that your bordello pants are just meant to be.  Besides, there is one good thing to come from them…”

“Oh, and what is that?”

“At least in those I don’t have to worry about everyone we meet checking out your ass.”

“I _knew_ you were looking,” Bull smirked, nudging at Dorian’s shoulder.

“Well, covered in all that leather it was hard to ignore.”

“Admit it, you liked the leathers…”

“I didn’t absolutely _hate_ them.”

 

And that was how two pairs of leather leggings ended up folded in Bull’s dresser right next to several outlandish pairs of pants.  And if no one outside their room ever saw them, well, that was just fine with Dorian.


	9. Amatus...Darling!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Orlesian noble visiting Skyhold and being like "Ew, gays" and "Ew, relationship between races" during the dinner and Quizzy being really upset because they're dating someone of their gender and different race, but doesn't say anything, so Dorian and Bull decide to pretend to be in a relationship to piss the noble off. And well, they realise they may kinda like it. (Wow, this is so specific.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick FYI: This post contains moments of homophobia and bigotry as could be inferred from the prompt. I don't want to tag the entire series for one post so consider this the fair warning :)

Sera had already informed Dorian that the newest noble-in-residence was a ‘prat who needs a bed full of nug shit’, but having to sit across the table from the man at dinner was still proving to test his patience.

“You must understand Inquisitior, it is just so unusual to see an elf in a position of power,” Monsieur D’Agecer drawled from behind his painted mask.

Dorian watched as Ellana drew a deep breath and put on her best Inquisitor face.  “Oh, no, I quite understand Monsieur.  To find out that you were all human hiding behind those masks was shocking to say the least.”

Dorian snorted into his wine glass, forcing him to play it off as a sneeze a moment later when the noble’s eyes shot to him.

“And you sir, you are Tevinter no?” The man asked, as if inquiring about something distasteful he’d found on the bottom of his shoe.

“It’s Altus actually,” Dorian purred, his tone nothing but honey.  “Dorian Pavus, Altus of House Pavus, heir inherit of Asariel and most recently of Minrathous.”

Monsieur D’Agecer reeled back as though slapped which only proved to Dorian he was a bigot rather than actually stupid.  A fact that was confirmed when the man turned to his left and began a soft spoken conversation with a fellow Orlesian rather than speaking to Ellana or Dorian again.  It was hardly a loss, Dorian decided as he raised his wine glass in silent salute to Ellana and told himself that he really would have to speak to Josephine about the quality of nobles the Inquisition needed to court.

That might have been the end of it had D’Agecer not consumed too much wine and gotten loud as they waited for the main course.  “But certainly you were mistaken, she could not possibly have been with another woman.”

Dorian scowled at the man and his seatmate, who at least had better manners and was keeping her volume down.  Not that that stopped the fool opposite him from belting out, “But it is unnatural, an affront to nature.”

Ellana’s glass hit the table exceptionally hard and Dorian could see the anger she held suppressed in the whiteness of her knuckles still gripped around the stem and the firm set of her mouth.  Dorian had had enough, it didn’t matter how much money this man brought to the table he was an ass and Dorian was both willing and able to put him in his place.

His mouth was already opening, prepared to verbally lambast the man when he caught sight of Bull walking into the main hall alongside Varric and instead he raised his voice and called out, “Amatus...darling.”

 

Bull froze as Dorian’s voice rang out through the great hall, every head at the long table turning to look at he and Varric.  Amatus.  _Beloved._   _Darling?_ Either the ‘Vint had had too much wine again or some long lost lover had finally showed up from Tevinter.  When a glance behind him showed no such arrival Bull turned his attention down to Varric, who was starting up at him with the same perplexed look he figured was on his own face. 

Before Bull could decide what the ‘Vint’s game was, Dorian was hurrying towards him, the extra swoosh in his hips making Bull’s eyes narrow in suspicion as the mage practically yelled, “Did you forget we were dining with Ellana and her new guest this evening Amatus.  I swear, once you get involved with the Chargers you forget everything, even your lover.”

Bull heard the sharp gasp coming from the far end of the table and his frown deepened, just in time to find himself with an arm full of ‘Vint who hissed in his ear, “The man is a toad, be a dear and play along.”

“Kadan, my apologies,” Bull muttered, rather loudly, before tipping Dorian’s head up and kissing him.  He had intended it to be a peck and nothing more, but that was before he realized Dorian tasted like the fine wine they were serving and just when he told himself to back off Dorian’s tongue darted out, the lightest lick against his own lips, and Bull found himself responding and deepening the kiss.

Varric clearing his throat reminded Bull of where they were and he reluctantly pulled back, finding he liked the way the ‘Vint’s eyes were blown wide when he opened them, his lips swollen and red from their kiss.  Grinning down at Dorian he had to bite back a laugh as awareness of where they were flooded the ‘Vint’s consciousness, the mage puffing up and tutting as he took a step back.

“Come Amatus, Cullen was good enough to sit in for you until you could arrive,” Dorian explained as he pulled Bull towards the head of the table where Cullen was seated at the Boss’s right.  A bewildered Cullen stood, relief flooding his expression as he realized he was truly going to be excused from the gathering and could hurry back to his paperwork.

Dorian waited until Bull was seated, dragging his hand slowly across Bull’s shoulders before speaking.  “Ah, Monsieur D’Agecer, I don’t believe you’ve met my _partner_ The Iron Bull.  Bull, this is Monsieur D’Agecer.  He’s just joined us from Orlais.”

“But he…that is…he is…” D’Agecer stuttered before whispering, “an ox.”

The gasp that went around the table was nothing compared to the way Dorian’s fingers bit into Bull’s shoulder.  Slapping his hand up to cover Dorian’s in the hopes of saving his skin Bull decided Dorian was right, the man was a toad. 

“Bull,” the Boss started, reaching across the table to lay her hand on his arm.

He smiled over at her, ignoring the Orlesian entirely.  “It’s alright Boss.  Some people just don’t seem to realize that even ox have ears.”

Rather than relax, the Boss’s eyes narrowed, her attention shifting from Bull to the noble.  “No, no it isn’t alright Bull.  And it hasn’t been alright since this…this…”

“Toad?” Dorian offered from behind him.

“Yes, since this toad arrived.  Cassandra?”

“Yes Inquisitor,” the Seeker snapped, on her feet almost before she’d finished speaking.

“Could you please escort our…guest…to his quarters and wait for him while he gathers his things?”

“What?” D’Agecer squawked, throwing his napkin down on his plate.  “You can’t possibly mean…”

“Oh, but I most certainly do,” Ellana assured him as she too took to her feet.  “I expect you out of my keep before daybreak.  And I’ll be certain to let Josie know, when I snuggle up next to her in bed tonight, that you are not welcome back.”

Another nod in Cassandra’s direction and the imposing warrior had the squawking noble by the arm and was escorting him from the room so quickly the man had trouble keeping his feet under him.  As soon as the door closed behind them Ellana smiled cordially at those remaining at the table.  “I apologize for that untimely interruption.  I do believe they are ready to serve the main course.”

Bull felt rather than saw Dorian as he slid into Cassandra’s spot at the table, reaching over to grab his glass of wine before turning to face Bull.  “I apologize for getting you caught up in that,” Dorian whispered, the glass in his hand shaking slightly. 

“No need to apologize to me.  You were right in your first assessment of the man,” Bull chuckled, motioning for one of the serving staff to go ahead and fill Cullen’s unused wine glass.  “Besides, not often I find myself with a lover _and_ an invitation to the Inquisitor’s table in the same night.”

Taking a sip of his wine Bull watched as Dorian’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of red, the mage raising his glass to his lips several times without ever taking a drink.  “Oh, yes, about that.  The man had been insulting Ellana all evening and when he made a comment about her preferring the fairer sex I’m afraid I had had enough.  You and Varric just had the misfortune of walking in at the wrong time.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Bull grinned, taking another sip of his wine before leaning closer to Dorian, his hand resting on the chair right next to Dorian’s knee.  “I rather enjoyed the kiss.”

“Oh, uhm, yes,” Dorian stuttered, his tongue darting out to wet his upper lip.  “That is, I did also.”

“Enough so you might want a repeat a little later?” Bull practically purred in Dorian’s ear, watching as the ‘Vint’s breath stuttered to a stop.

For a long moment he thought Dorian wasn’t going to answer at all, and Bull prepared to turn his attention fully to where the Boss sat watching them intently.  But then there was the slightest press of Dorian’s knee against his hand and the ‘Vint whispered past his glass, “Why don’t we get through dinner first.”


	10. Don'cha Love Him?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hope it's alright to send an Adoribull Sunday prompt a bit early, (I don't know how around I'll be on Sunday) but I've fallen completely in love with your chargers turned into little kid fic, and was wondering if we could get more of that before they change back. Maybe with them asking if Dorian and Bull are married, and if not why not. Or a few of them getting lost somewhere and Bull and Dorian panicking. I just love that universe.

Dorian was almost to the door when he heard it, a quiet little voice whispering, “Dori?”

Turning around, he found Dalish sitting up in her bed, one of Sera’s shirts swamping the child and leaving one of her shoulders bare.  Not wanting to chance waking the other children Dorian quickly moved back to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed as he asked, “Yes child.”

“Why’s Bull not sleepin’ here too?”

Dorian frowned, not aware that the children had been paying that much attention to who was and wasn’t spending time in the Chargers’ quarters.  He should have known better, it seemed there was no end to the children’s curiosity…or their questions.  “Why would he?”

“Cause you’z married.”

Dorian laughed softly.  “Oh child, Bull and I aren’t married.”

“Why’z not?”  A little voice behind he piped up and Dorian turned to find not only Stitches but also Grim awake and staring at him.

“Well, because we just aren’t.”

“Doncha loves him?” Dalish asked, her eyes wide.

“Course he does,” Stitches countered with a pout.  “Kisses him don’t he?”

“Well, it’s not necessary to love someone to kiss them,” Dorian argued.  “Though it does make things better.”

“Told ya,” Stitches crowed.

Grim shook his head and whispered, “He didna says it.”

Dalish’s little hand wrapped around his wrist.  “But you’z do right?  You’z loves Bull?”

Kaffas, how did he get himself into these things?  He hadn’t even said the words to Bull yet and now…fasta vass, but those big blue eyes of hers should be declared dangerous weapons.  “Yes, children, I do love him but no we aren’t married.  Maybe someday.”

“You’z should tell him,” Stitches declared with a vigorous nod of his head. 

“Tell him what?”

“That you’z want to marry him.”

“He’d say yes.”  This was from the other side of the room where Dorian found Krem peering at him while sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

“Goodness, are any of you actually sleeping?” Dorian asked, unsurprised when he heard a little giggle from Rocky’s bed and a flurry of movement from Skinner’s before her little head popped out of the blankets at the bottom of the bed.  Dorian shook his head, unable to keep a small smile from forming.  “You are all little fakers.”

“Not fakin’…can’t sleep ‘cause Bull dinna say ‘night,” Rocky pouted.

“Yes, well Bull had a meeting with the Inquisitor tonight.  I’m sure he’ll be by in the morning.”

“If you’z was married he’d be here e’ry night.”

“Tell him Dori…tellz ‘im you wanna be married,” Dalish pleaded, her little fingers squeezing his arm again.

“Yes, tell ‘im.”  “Pwease.” “Want Bull ‘ere.”  “Pwease Dori…”  “Tells Bull…”

“Tell me what?” Bull’s voice boomed out, loud enough to drown out the children’s for a moment before all six shouted his name and flew towards where the warrior stood in the doorway.

Laughing as he swung Grim, Stitches and Dalish up for a hug Bull nuzzled each of their noses before asking, “Just what are all of you doing up still?”

“Talkin’ to Dori ‘bout you,” Dalish said seriously, her fingers playing with the tips of Bull’s ear which she seemed endlessly fascinated with.

Looking over to where Dorian was sitting shaking his head Bull thought he saw a faint flush of pink on the mage’s cheeks.  “Oh, really?”  Bull asked as he put the children down and repeated his hug and nuzzle with the other three.  “And what were you discussing?”

Rocky regarded Bull seriously, little hands framing Bull’s face as he whispered, “That you should marry him…”

“Cause he love you,” Stitches piped up proudly from Bull’s knee.

“Fasta vass,” Dorian muttered, his head dropping into his hand.

“Ooooh, tat’s a bad word,” Krem scolded, looking from Bull to Dorian and back again to see just what Bull’s response would be.  The only problem was, the huge warrior was still stuck on Stitches’ declaration, his mind trying to decide if Dorian’s distress was because the kids had jumped to conclusions or if it was possible that…

“’e told us,” Skinner whispered against his ear.

“Dorian?” Bull whispered as he knelt to set the children down.

Dorian stood, his eyes not quite meeting Bull’s as he clapped his hands together and said, “I know six little children who won’t be going to visit the kittens tomorrow if they don’t get back to bed.”

“Dori…”  “Noes…”  “Night Bull…”  “I’z ‘sleep, seez.”

Bull watched silently as six little pairs of feet scurried for their beds and Dorian took his time tucking them back in with a quick whisper to each and a run of his finger down their noses before sliding past Bull without a word.  With one final look to make sure all the kids were still in bed, Bull followed Dorian out to the sitting room, closing the door behind him.

 “I’m sorry about that Amatus,” Dorian muttered from his spot next to the fireplace, without ever looking away from the flames he was studying so intently.  “They seem to have gotten it into their minds that if we were…well…you know, then you would be here every night too.”

Bull chuckled.  “Hard to argue with kid logic.”

“Yes, well, I’ll simply explain in the morning…”

“Dorian, they’re my crew.  It won’t kill me to sleep here.”

“Your feet will hang off the end of the bed,” Dorian scowled, finally looking away from the flames, not at Bull but toward the bed that had been hastily delivered and set up in the corner of the room.  “I suppose we could have a bigger bed delivered, certainly there must be something somewhere I mean your bed didn’t just spring up out of…”

“Kadan,” Bull interrupted, laying his hands lightly on Dorian’s shoulders and feeling the mage tense beneath him.  “They’re kids, Kadan, I understand if they misunderstood what you said.”

If possible Dorian tension only grew and Bull was prepared for the mage to slip away from him at any moment.  Bull had learned long ago that he could put Dorian in a room full of Red Templars and the man would emerge victorious, without a scratch, but when it came to feelings…

“No,” Dorian finally whispered, the one word so soft that if Bull had been human he wouldn’t have heard it.

“No what Kadan.”

Bull felt Dorian’s sigh as much as heard it, but the mage finally twisted in his hold so he could look up at Bull.  “No, they weren’t mistaken.  Oh, not about the marriage thing, I certain don’t expect you to go making an honest man of me or anything…”

“Dorian…”

Sighing again, Dorian locked his eyes on Bull’s and whispered, “I love you Amatus.  I know we’ve never really said it, but they weren’t wrong, I do.”

The problem was, even after he’d said the words Dorian’s tension didn’t ease, his eyes searching Bull’s face for the moment when Bull refuted him and the huge warrior’s heart almost broke for his lover.  Raising a hand he cupped Dorian’s cheek and whispered, “I love you too, Kadan.”

The sheer shock on Dorian’s face would have pulled a laugh from Bull if it wasn’t so sad.  “But…I didn’t think the Qun did love.”

Bull shrugged.  “Always was shit at following rules, Kadan.”

“Then…”

Reaching out one arm Bull wrapped it around Dorian’s waist and tugged the mage to him.  “Stop thinking and kiss me, Kadan,” he whispered, leaning down to claim Dorian’s lips.

 

Six little heads peered through the door, watching as their Bull kissed their Dori until he was breathless.  “Tol’ you he loved him…”


	11. Breaking Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adoribull sunday: ten baseballs, a long afternoon, and a paid off teenager later "I'm sorry my foster son broke your window, he's got quite an arm mr. pavus, maybe we could make it up to you.... oh he broke your bedroom window.... hmmm".

Dorian was just stepping out of the shower when the distinctive tinkling sound of breaking glass had him reaching for his staff and dropping into a defensive stance.  If Halward thought he could just drag him back home this time he was going to be sadly mistaken, Dorian was no longer that callow youth who had been hesitant to use magic in his own defense.

Slowly moving toward the arching doorway that led to his bedroom Dorian peeked around the corner, his eyes darting from potential hiding place to hiding place but saw no sign of anyone being in the room before focusing his attention on the window.  He was moderately surprised to find that rather than being broken out, as it would have been if Dorian was truly under attack, there was a single round hole in the glass, with fractures radiating out from the gap.

Frowning, Dorian reached for a towel with one hand, still not quite willing to let go of the security that his staff provided, and awkwardly wrapped it around his waist.  Stepping into the bedroom carefully he scowled harder as he approached the bed and found not only a puddle of broken glass covering the far side of it, but also a baseball.

“Fasta vass,” he growled, storming through the bedroom door and down the staircase intending to find the hooligan responsible only to have his doorbell ring the moment he reached for the handle.  Wrenching open the door, Dorian froze as he found himself staring into a wall of silver skin.  Taking an instinctive step back Dorian forced his eyes up, up, and still farther up, past a pair of shoulders that were almost twice as wide as he was, a neck that was thicker than his thigh all the way up to meet a single silver eye that sparkled with mirth.  Annoyed to have been caught off-guard Dorian hissed, “Yes?”

A broad smile formed on the massive qunari’s face, his stance shifting as he held out one hand toward Dorian.  “Mr. Pavus I believe?  I’m The Iron Bull and I just came to apologize for the baseball my foster son put through your window.”

Ignoring the offered hand, Dorian’s eyes narrowed.  “Your son was the hooligan who sent glass shattering into my bed?” 

“Bed huh?  That’s rough,” Bull commiserated with a slight wince.  “I’d be happy to have my son clean up the mess…”

“Kaffas, no.  I’m not letting you into my bedroom,” Dorian growled.

“Hey, I had to offer,” Bull countered, raising his hands up in a placating manner even as his eyes dropped, reminding Dorian quite suddenly that the only thing he was wearing was a towel.  As Bull’s attention slowly scanned up Dorian’s body his smile turned decidedly wicked.  “I mean…it’s obvious we interrupted you.”

“It’s fine, really, I’ll send you the bill,” Dorian huffed, his cheeks heating from the qunari’s intense perusal.  Without waiting for a response he hurriedly shut the door before leaning against it and breathing out a heavy sigh.

It was only when he was back in his room surveying the wreckage that Dorian realized that while he could say with certainty that The Iron Bull had a voice that would tempt a saint and a body that would make an angel glad he fell, he had absolutely no clue where the man lived.  Fuck.

 

“Oh Dori, tell me you didn’t,” Felix laughed in Dorian’s headset as the mage in question poured himself a cup of coffee, adding a generous helping of both cream and sugar.

“I did, and it was mortifying.  I ended up paying for the new window myself because I couldn’t bear to face him.”

“Well, do me a favor the next time I visit and promise you’ll wear clothes to pick me up at the airport.  I love you, Dor, but I don’t need to see those parts of you.”

Dorian felt himself growing flush all over again.  It had been a week and even now he couldn’t believe he’d not only answered the door wearing practically nothing but hadn’t even noticed.  His father would be rolling over in his grave if the man were actually dead.  “I hate you sometimes, have I ever told you that?”

“No you don’t,” Felix laughed, only to start coughing.

“Felix…Felix are you alright?”  Dorian’s grip on his cup went white as he waited for a response, cursing himself for overexciting the man who was like a brother to him.

“Fine...Dori…just fine,” Felix finally spit out, causing Dorian to sigh hard enough he was certain the other man had to have heard him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Vishante kaffas, Dorian.  Don’t start acting like my father,” Felix hissed, his voice much softer now which forced Dorian to turn up the volume just to hear him.  “Now, tell me again just what your new boyfriend looked like.”

“Kaffas, he’s not my boyfriend,” Dorian growled as he headed for the living room only to shriek a moment later when his window exploded inward.

_“Dorian!  Dori!”_  

Dorian stared as the baseball slammed to the ground, leaving a divot in his Antivan rug before rolling to a stop only two feet in front of him.  “I’ll call you back Felix.”

“Dorian…Dori, what…”

Dorian shut off his phone, whipping his headset off and dropping it onto the entry table along with his cup of coffee as he stormed out his front door just in time to see The Iron Bull heading up it.

“Hey there, sorry ‘bout that, the boy has a fucking arm on him,” Bull offered with a little shrug and an embarrassed grin.

“Apparently only directed at my windows,” Dorian grumbled.

“At least it wasn’t the bedroom this time,” Bull said cheerfully, nudging at Dorian’s arm as the pair of them stared at the hole in Dorian’s front window.

Shaking his head Dorian refused to admit that his arm was tingling from where Bull had nudged him, his body actually cooling from being in the shadow of the giant man.  “You simply have to quit letting your son…”

“Foster son…”

“Your _charge_ play ball if he can’t control his pitch.  I can’t afford to keep replacing windows.”

“Hey! I offered to pay for it…”

“I didn’t know where you lived.”

“Because you slammed the door in my face.”

“You were ogling me.”

“Ogling?  Really?” Bull laughed then, the sound deep and true and it rolled over and through Dorian until he found himself laughing right alongside the Qunari.

“Yes, well perhaps ogle wasn’t the right word,” Dorian admitted with a grin when he could finally speak.

“Oh no, it’s the right word, it’s just such a strange one,” Bull chuckled, then pointed at a house across the street and two doors down.  “And I live there.”

“Ah, I wasn’t aware Commander Rutherford had moved out.”

Bull shrugged.  “He was re-stationed and rented me the place until I could find something of my own.”

“Well, at least I know where to send the bills now,” Dorian grinned, thinking Felix would be proud of him.  Oh shit, Felix.  “If you’ll excuse me, I really should go…”

“But don’t you want Krem to clean up…” Bull started, but before he could finish Dorian had already slipped back inside and he was left, again, talking to the front door.

 

 

The following Saturday found Dorian in his front yard planting a row of crystal grace he had hopes would trellis up the porch.  Contrary to Felix and Mae’s beliefs, he was fully capable of getting his hands dirty from time to time even if he had been raised with servants to do that sort of thing. 

He had just gotten the hole deep enough to take the plant roots when he heard a familiar voice.

“Awwww, come on, Krem, just one more time.  I swear I’ll make sure to ask him first this time.”

“I don’t think it’s right, Bull.  I mean what if I hit him or he cut himself on the glass?”

Dorian scowled at the unfamiliar voice that obviously belonged to a much younger man.  And what was this about the glass?  Was that Bull’s foster son?  Glancing over his shoulder he saw a much smaller man walking with Bull, brown hair, broad shoulders, probably about seventeen or eighteen.

Realizing they’d be close enough to really see him in a moment Dorian slid around to the side of the house, hiding behind a bush just as the pair stepped up onto the curb and a reluctant Krem shuffled alongside Bull, running his hand along the top of Dorian’s picket fence.

“I promise Krem Puff, this is the last time.”

Krem sighed heavily.  “Why can’t you just ask him out like a normal person?”

Dorian wasn’t certain because his view of Bull was poor at this angle but he could almost swear the big man blushed.  “Because, he’s a ‘Vint and I’m…”

“ _I’m_ a ‘Vint, Chief.”

“Yeah, but you’re _my_ ‘Vint,” Bull countered, ruffling the young man’s hair with his fingers.  “Besides, it’s complicated.”

“Yeah, like what’s he gonna think of _me_ if you do get him to go out with you?”

Dorian snorted softly.  Leave it to a child to only be concerned with how something affected…wait, did he just say that Bull wanted to _date_ him?

“Gotta get that far first Krem Puff…now, you’re up,” Bull said, holding a baseball…a very familiar baseball up on his fingertips.

Dorian would later admit it was a bad idea.  To be honest, he hadn’t thought it through when he stood and ran for the pair just as Krem cocked his arm back.  His only thought was on saving his brand new window…or at least it was mostly on the window with perhaps a tiny bit of curiosity about just what a date with The Iron Bull would entail. 

Either way he managed to time his intervention perfectly so that he ended up between the house and the pair standing on his sidewalk just as Krem let the ball fly.  His first thought as the ball smashed into his nose, resulting in a crack that was audible even to the pair before him was that the kid had one hell of a fast ball.  The second was that his fucking nose was broken.

Dropping to his knees was instinctive, his hands flying up to cover the damaged tissue even as blood spilled onto his jeans.

“Fuck Dorian,” Bull yelled, springing over the fence rather than bothering with the gate.

“Shit.  Told you this was a bad idea Chief.”

“Not now Krem,” Bull grumbled, dropping to his knees in front of Dorian with a little wince.  Reaching out to tip Dorian’s chin up Bull whispered, “Let me see big guy.”

“You broke my fucking nose,” Dorian growled, smacking at Bull’s hand even as tears coursed down his cheeks.

“Fuck, I know, I’m sorry.  Let me look at it,” Bull insisted, capturing Dorian’s flailing hands to reveal a very patrician nose that was currently leaning at an odd angle and the start of two black eyes.  “Shit, we need to get you to the hospital.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Dorian hissed, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to fight off a wave of nausea that just a slight movement of his head caused.

“Krem, go home and get a towel…now!”

“Yes Chief!”

“I can’t believe you broke my fucking nose.”

“It’s alright, come on, stand up and we’ll get you to the truck.  I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…”

“I’m starting to believe that’s a habit of yours,” Dorian grumbled, but he allowed Bull to pull him to his feet, finding himself so focused on the pain that he didn’t even argue when Bull slipped an arm around his waist to help him walk.

Shaking his head slightly Bull muttered, “I just don’t know how you got there so fast, Krem was…”

“Going to break another window?” Dorian demanded, his attempt at a scowl cut off with a little groan of pain.

“Huh?”

“I heard everything.  I was in the garden when the two of you walked up.”

“Oh…uh, oh,” Bull stuttered, his free hand sliding up to rub anxiously at the base of one of his horns.  “Guess I have a lot of explaining to do huh?”

Dorian found that walking took all of his concentration, each step sending a stab of pain straight to his face, so by the time he had met Krem at the passenger side of Bull’s truck and accepted the towel the boy offered he could feel the tension pouring off of Bull.  Still the man was gentle as he helped Dorian into the truck, leaning the seat back slightly so Dorian could tilt his face up and hopefully stem the bleeding, before rushing around to the driver’s side.

Bull gave Dorian a quick glance as he slid the keys into the ignition but didn’t say a word when he backed the truck out onto the street and headed towards the closest emergency room. 

When it seemed that the worst of the bleeding had stopped Dorian dared to turn his head in Bull’s direction.  Taking in the way the qunari was white-knuckling the steering wheel and the way his lips were pulled tight in a grimace, Dorian found himself whispering, “Bull?”

“Yeah?  You ok?  I’m trying to avoid the bumps, is the drive making it worse?  Shit, I should have taken Concord…”

“Bull, it’s fine,” Dorian admitted, reaching out to lay his hand against Bull’s arm and feeling the tension singing in every muscle.  “Really.  I just wanted to say that my answer is yes.”

“Answer?” Bull asked, risking a quick glance at Dorian that only had his mouth pulling even more taunt.

“I believe you were going to ask me to dinner…”

“Ah shit, you heard that too?”

This time Dorian was certain the qunari was blushing, it turned his skin an interesting shade of blue.  “Yes, unless you were only kidding…”

“I didn’t bribe my kid to break your windows for a joke,” Bull grumbled, swearing under his voice as he realized just what he’d said.  “Shit, that is, yes, yes I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

“Good,” Dorian nodded, letting his head fall back against the headrest as his eyes closed.  “I expect someplace nice, the hospital cafeteria doesn’t count.”

Bull laughed, that bright, true sound that Dorian found soothed his frayed nerves.  “You got it ‘Vint.  Whatever you want…you’re worth every bit of it.”

“Yes, well, just promise me not to break any more of my windows.”

“Consider it done.”


	12. Revelations and Rebounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Prompt Sunday! Bull thinks he's only a rebound fuck for Dorian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some prompts get away from me and then some...like this one, just become their own stand alone single shots. lol  
> Hope you enjoy!

They were in the middle of the Hissing Wastes when it happened.

They had just cleared out another one of those creepy fucking dwarven tombs, thankfully without triggering any of the defenses this time.  Bull had been the first off the ladder just in case the Venatori or the Red Templars had filtered back in while they’d been down in the caves.  Thankfully, there was no sign of the enemy, but then _it_ wasn’t about fighting.

Instead it was about how he reached down to help Dorian out of the cave, the mage stepping so close to him as he reached the top that Bull could smell that fancy citrus lotion Dorian used.  And then, before he’d even let go of Bull’s hand, Dorian had tipped his head up toward the sun, basking in the heat like a cat, and _it_ had happened.

In the blink of an eye between ‘let me help you’ and ‘shit, Vint, you act like you’ve been down there for a week’ all Bull could see was Dorian.  The way his hair was too long, drooping forward over one eye until he tossed it back.  The way his eyes had widened slightly with pleasure the moment the heat hit his body, before sliding shut.  The way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, making Bull want to taste them, to nip and kiss them until they turned red and swollen and Dorian made that little sound in the back of his throat that Bull loved.  The way his head tipped back, exposing the long length of his throat to Bull, making the warrior want nothing more than to suck a bruise into all that copper colored skin, to mark the mage as his.

Except fuck, Dorian _wasn’t_ his.  Dorian would never be his.  At least not like that.  Oh, the mage certainly liked it when Bull left bruises, but only where they wouldn’t show, where no one questioned who it was that was warming Dorian’s bed at night.  And Bull knew that’s all it was.  He was fine with it being that way.

Because Dorian had wanted Cullen from the moment he’d seen him, all sun-kissed blond hair and shy glances.  It had only been after Dorian had made his play for the Commander and been turned down, gently of course, because Cullen was nothing if not a gentleman, that Dorian had turned to Bull.  Had asked Bull to tie him up and take him…to conquer him as Bull had long ago suggested.

It hadn’t taken a Ben-Hassrath spy to know that what Dorian needed was to feel in control of his life again.  And in submitting to Bull, in making that choice to come to Bull’s bed or his bedroll or on one memorable occasion the wall outside Bull’s room, Dorian was ultimately in charge.

Which meant that this…this fucking insane beating in Bull’s chest, this rock that suddenly sat in the pit of his stomach, this need…was wrong.

“What the fuck, Bull?” Dorian demanded when he found himself suddenly stumbling back several steps toward the ladder when Bull released his hand as though it were on fire.

“Thought I saw something,” Bull grumbled, taking his own steps back as though space alone could cure him.  “I’ll take a look around while you help Varric and the Boss.”

Dorian scowled.  Bull didn’t have to look at him to know that and fuck…when had he gotten so good at knowing what the ‘Vint was going to do?  “What has gotten into you?”

_You._  It was the perfect opening.  It was the expected response.  A wicked grin and one little syllable, but Bull found himself unable to force the word past his lips from fear that if he did, Dorian would hear it for what it was.  Not some flippant sexual comment but truth…a truth that Dorian most certainly didn’t want.  One that was Bull’s fault.

As he stormed away Bull missed the hurt that flashed through Dorian’s eyes, hurt he would never have expected to see there.

 

Bull did his best to avoid Dorian after that.  Oh, not in battle.  He’d just realized he actually cared for the man, it wasn’t like he was going to allow anything to happen to him.  But it also wasn’t like this thing he and Dorian had had moved to the point that they habitually shared a tent or anything.  So it proved easy to make certain that when they made camp for the night he arranged to be standing near either Varric or the Boss rather than Dorian.  Inevitably one of them would throw the tent his way and by tacit agreement he’d find himself with a tent mate.

And if Dorian scowled at him more frequently as the days went on, Bull figured it was no more than he deserved and promised himself that he would have a talk with Dorian when they got back to Skyhold.  Explain that it was better if they ended things between them before either of them got in too deep.  Ha.  Bit too late for that, but what the ‘Vint didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

It wasn’t until the Boss was satisfied that she’d explored every grain of sand on offer that they began traveling back towards Skyhold.  Things seemed to be going normally until Bull woke up on the morning of the third day.  They were approaching Montsimmard and the Boss had expressed an interest in checking out the Grey Warden Headquarters there to see if any Wardens remained in residence.  It meant adding a couple of days to their trip, but shit, they’d been gone several months already what was a little detour.  At least it wasn’t to check out some cave almost guaranteed to be full of spiders or deepstalkers, or better yet, some combination thereof.

Leaving Varric snoring on the other side of the tent Bull slipped out, intending to stoke up the prior night’s fire only to find it already blazing and the Boss poking at it with a stick, a deep scowl on her face.  Bull dropped onto a log they’d pulled up the night before.  “Varric’s snoring wake you? Or was it the ‘Vint’s?”

“Dorian left this morning,” the Boss grumbled, her scowl deepening.

“What?  Why?”

“Gee, I don’t know Bull.  Maybe because he was sick of you treating him like a pariah,” the Boss hissed before snapping her mouth shut, obviously deciding she’d said too much.

Problem was she hadn’t said enough.  Sure, he’d been keeping his distance, but it wasn’t like that was unusual for either of them on a mission.  Fuck, even in Skyhold they only got together a couple times a week and that was only if Dorian could pull himself away from his research.

With a low growl the Boss finished poking at the logs, tossing her stick onto the top of the fire and settling back to study him.  Bull decided that if she ever got tired of the Inquisitor shit the Boss had a great career as an interrogator ahead of her, he wasn’t certain he’d ever felt quite so uncomfortable just from someone’s stare before.  But uncomfortable or not he kept his mouth shut.  To do otherwise would be as good as admitting she was getting to him.

Bull felt it when she finally turned her attention away from him, choosing to look out over the meadow before them instead.  “I know Dorian can be a little shit.  He’s abrasive and vain and far too frequently right about everything.  But I had thought if anyone could see through that it would be you, Bull.”

It was Bull’s turn to scowl.  He wasn’t quite certain what he’d been expecting the Boss to say, but it sure as shit wasn’t that.  “Don’t know why you think I didn’t, Boss.  Dorian may be a ‘Vint but he’s a good man.  And sure, he says some fucked up shit sometimes but it’s never because he’s trying to be cruel.  Shit, I’m not certain there’s actually a cruel bone in his body.”

The Boss was back to staring at him again, this time like he’d grown a second head.  “I happen to agree with you.  But what I don’t understand is how you can say something like that and then just dismiss him the way that you did.  I mean, if you really thought Dorian was as shallow as he pretends to be, fine.  But to know just how deeply he cares about the people close to him and shut him out…” she broke off, climbing slowly to her feet and wiping her hands off on her leggings before pinning him with a sad stare.  “I’m disappointed in you, Bull.”

And fuck if that didn’t hurt.  Bull would rather she had just tossed one of those throwing knives of hers at his chest than to hear those words.  Watching as she headed back towards her tent.  The tent he now knew Dorian no longer occupied, Bull found himself calling out, “Boss…”

He was rethinking the knives thing when she spun on her heel, her face red with fury as she stormed back towards him.  “Listen, you decide that you’re not interested in him anymore, fair enough.  But to just ignore him for the past week and a half is bullshit.  He deserved better.  He cared about you Bull and there aren’t a whole lot of people that Dorian can say that about.”

Bull knew he should say something.  Obviously a declaration like that required some sort of response but all he could think was that the Boss said Dorian cared about him.  Cared about him.  And shit, he didn’t miss that cared was in the past tense.  But certainly you didn’t care for someone and then not care in the span of two weeks, no matter how stupid that other someone might have been.  At least it certainly hadn’t worked that way with Bull.

If anything, keeping Dorian at arm’s length had only reinforced how very much Bull wanted Dorian in arm’s length.  Wrapped tightly in arm’s length.  Pressed so closely in arm’s length that not even air could get between them.   And instead, he’d run Dorian off.  Fuck.

Shaking his head, Bull found that he was alone in front of the fire, the Boss disappearing at some point during his musings.  Shit.  That was probably not a good sign.  Because if anyone knew where the ‘Vint had disappeared to lick his wounds it’d be the Boss.  Fuck.  Just the thought of him having upset Dorian enough that the mage had disappeared made Bull’s chest hurt so bad he found himself rubbing at it as if that could ease the fist that seemed to be clenched around his heart.

Ok, so he had fucked everything up.  But he could fix it.  Because that’s what he did right?  He fixed shit.  Climbing to his feet he headed towards the Boss’s tent prepared to grovel if that’s what it took because damn it he owed Dorian an apology…and that was just to start.

 

 

Val Royeaux.  Of course, it had to be Val Royeaux.  Where everything was coated in gold and silk practically ran through the streets like a river.  It was the perfect place for Dorian to soothe his ruffled feathers.  And it was also a nightmare for a seven foot qunari with horns wider than most doors.

Still, if this was where he’d find Dorian then he’d brave the doors and the stairs and even the annoying fucking masks.  It was bad enough that he was two days behind Dorian.  It had taken him that long to convince the Boss that he really did have feelings for the mage and that those feelings might not be something he was used to and may have caused him to make some bad decisions.

He was half convinced the Boss only took pity on him in the end because he’d actually made the declaration in front of Varric and shit, but wasn’t that just one more thing he had to apologize to the ‘Vint for.  Because as he’d been saddling his horse the rogue had been pulling out his quill and parchment and Bull had a sneaking suspicion Varric’s next novel would feature a pair of star-crossed lovers torn apart by love of home and country or some other such nonsense.

Personally, as long as it got Dorian back in his arms and in his life, Bull didn’t care if Varric made the novel into a series.  What did he care about Varric’s fantasy when he could have the real thing? Please, let him be able to have the real thing.

Stepping into the lobby of the hotel off the street Bull found himself quickly met by a petite redhead, her hands already shooing him back out the door before she even began to speak.  “No.  I have no more rooms.  You people cannot simply continue to show up at my doorstep and think that I have rooms to spare.”

Glancing back toward the door and the crest etched in glass on it with the name ‘The Indulgent Miss’, Bull grinned down at the woman.  “I take it you aren’t said Miss.”

“What I am is fully booked.  I don’t care what Antivan carnival you are here to witness you will have to do so from another hotel.”

Hum, carnival was it?  A flash of Dorian wearing a feathered mask and little else flashed through Bull’s mind, drawing a little grin from him as he said, “I think we got off on the wrong foot.  My associate has already checked in a few days ago, I am simply joining him.”

“And who exactly would this associate be?” The woman demanded with a disbelieving frown.

“Dorian Pavus.”

“Ah, Monsieur Pavus checked in alone and did not tell me he was expecting a guest.”

“Yes, well, Inquisition business.  We weren’t certain I would be able to get away but apparently it’s my lucky day what with carnival and all.”

Retreating back behind her desk the woman tutted under her breath.  “I really should check with Monsieur Pavus…”

“I was hoping to surprise him.  Perhaps you could just tell me the room number and if he isn’t in then I’ll come back down and wait for him here.”

The woman arched her brow at him and gave him a look that told Bull she was nobody’s fool.  “I would not remain in business very long if I just handed out my guest’s information to whomever asked.”

“Perhaps this will help,” Bull countered, pulling the hastily penned note from the Boss out and handing it over.

He watched as the woman examined the seal carefully to ensure it hadn’t been tampered with before cracking the wax and reading the missive.  Instantly, her entire disposition changed.  “Oh, Evelyn…you must tell her that I miss her.  It has been far too long since she was here,” the woman practically purred before reaching towards Bull and slapping at his hand with the letter. “And you Monsieur.  Why did you not tell me that this was a matter of le Coeur…of the heart.  I swear even the best of men cannot seem to manage such affairs without probleme.”

Bull didn’t have to fake his blush, and if he hadn’t been in such a hurry to see Dorian he’d have been trying to get that letter to see just what the Boss had written.  Regardless, it had obviously done the trick.  “May I have that room number now Madame?”

“But of course.  If Evelyn says that you are one of hers...Monsieur Pavus is in room 23.  Up the stairs and to your right.  I believe he should be in, he has rarely left since his arrival.”

“Many thanks,” Bull nodded, thankful that the staircase was a wide, sweeping thing that he could hurry up without concern for the silk wall hangings.

It was only after he located Dorian’s room that Bull found himself hesitating.  The woman had said Dorian had spent most of the last two days in his room but what if he hadn’t spent them alone?  Just because he had checked in by himself didn’t mean that he had stayed that way…

A wave of something dark and possessive rolled through Bull and he found himself knocking hard on the door.  Shit, if this was what jealousy was like Koslun had been wise to teach against personal attachments.

“I assure you, Madame Rouchard, I am fine.”

Except that Dorian’s voice didn’t sound fine, even through the buffer of the door.  He sounded tired…and sad.  “That’s good to know ‘Vint, but I’d feel better if I could see for myself.”

“Vishante kaffas,” Bull heard Dorian mutter just before there was a thud against the door that Bull assumed was Dorian’s head.  When the mage spoke again, he sounded even more defeated than he had at first.  “Go away, Bull.”

“After I came all this way to see you?  Come on, Dorian let me in.”

“No.”

Bull shrugged and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, being careful not to score the white painted wood.  “Ok.  I just thought this might be the sort of conversation you didn’t want to have where everyone could hear it but I’m not leaving until I tell you I’m sorry.”

“Fine, consider your apology accepted.  Now go away.”

“Dorian…”

“Bull…”

Bull sighed heavily and decided to put all his cards on the table.  “I realized that I cared about you that day when I almost dropped you back into the pit and I might not have known how to deal with it.”

The silence that followed was so complete that if Bull hadn’t already been talking to Dorian he might have believed he was talking to an empty room.  Then, just about the time Bull was getting ready to sit down and settle in for a long wait the door under his shoulder shifted and he jumped back as it opened wide enough for Dorian to peer out at him.

Bull was so busy taking in every detail about Dorian, from the way his hair hung lifelessly in his face to just how tired the mage’s eyes looked even though his mouth twitched in a wry grin, that he almost missed the ‘Vint’s words.  “You’re an idiot.”

Not much Bull could say to argue with that.  “Does that mean you’ll let me in?”

Dorian rolled his eyes but stepped back and motioned Bull through.  The room was very Orlesian, all dark blue silk and white furniture with gold detailing, but what stopped Bull in his tracks was the fact that at the moment it looked like a bomb had exploded in it.  Dorian’s robes were thrown over chairs, his boots lay in the middle of the floor between the table and the bed, a stack of parchment had been scattered all over said table and the bedding was all piled in a nest at the bottom of the bed.  Bull found himself wondering if Dorian’s quarters in Skyhold looked much the same and, if so, if that could be why the mage had never seen fit to invite Bull to his room.

“Don’t judge me,” Dorian growled softly as he scurried past Bull and shoved one of the oversized chairs in his direction while the mage himself dropped into the middle of the nest of blankets, pulling one over his lap.

“Hey, who am I to judge?” Bull chuckled, gaining himself an arched brow in response.  “Yeah, so ok, maybe a little bit of judgement.  I mean it takes skill to make a room look this lived in in just two days.”

“Three,” Dorian corrected with a shrug.  “I rode hard.”

“Dorian…”

If Bull hadn’t been watching the mage so closely he would have missed his soft sigh.  Certainly there was no sign of it in the hard lilt in Dorian’s words as he peered intensely at Bull.  “I believe you had something you wanted to say.”

Instead of taking the seat Dorian had shoved his way Bull began to pace the room, eventually ending up in front of the large window that looked out onto the bay.  “Nice view.”

“Rather.”

Ok, so no help was going to be found on that front.  Dropping the curtains Bull leaned against the wall and watched as Dorian began to pick at the edges of the blanket.  Part of him wanted to cross the room and pull his lover…and shit, when had Dorian become that rather than just a friend to pass the time with?  Bull had a feeling it was long before that fateful day in the desert when he’d finally realized it.  Sighing at himself again Bull closed his eyes for a moment and then admitted.  “You know we don’t really do the whole ‘relationship’ thing under the Qun…”

Dorian’s mouth twitched.  “Yes, we might have discussed it a time or two.”

“So, when you came to me that first night I knew things with you and Cullen hadn’t gone the way you wanted and figured you needed to blow off some steam.”

Dorian scowled at him and tucked the blanket tighter around himself.  “So I was just a pity fuck for you?”

“Shit, no.  Fuck, Dorian, how can you think after all the hints I gave that I was interested in you...”

“Yes, because complimenting my _skirts_ was certainly very telling.”

“Hey, not my fault your ass looks good in everything.”

Dorian snorted and rolled his eyes again but his shoulders also relaxed and his fingers stilled against the blankets.  Bull found his feet moving almost before he thought about it, one of his arms reaching out to curl around one of the large posters of the bed.  “What I had thought was that you were finally in my room, asking me for the thing I’d wanted for months and I figured if I had to be a rebound to get it then I’d be ok with that.”

“Bull…”

He shook his head, not liking the tone he heard in Dorian’s voice that sounded distinctly like pity.  

“Hey, it’s ok,” Bull shrugged.  “I mean, it’s not like I’d know what to do with a relationship anyway…”

“Oh…”

Fuck, now Dorian was back to staring at his lap and Bull missed the attention of those assessing silver eyes on him.  “Crap, I’m fucking this all up,” he growled, dropping down onto the bed next to Dorian and slowly reaching out to the ‘Vint.

When Dorian made no attempt to pull away Bull curled his fingers under the mage’s chin and tipped his head up.  Sorrow burned deep in those silver eyes and Bull tipped his head slightly, leaning his forehead against Dorian’s.  “That day…the one when I walked away from you, you looked so fucking gorgeous standing there basking in the summer heat and my heart just about sprang out of my chest.  I knew then that even if I was a rebound for you I’d done something stupid and had fallen for you.”

“But you just told me…”

“That Qunari don’t do relationships?  Yeah, so you can imagine what realizing that I wasn’t just falling, I was so far into you that I couldn’t even think of a time I _hadn’t_ felt that way, did to me..”

“So you walked away…”

Bull felt his cheeks flush and would have pulled away if one of Dorian’s hands hadn’t raised to cup his cheek, Dorian’s cool fingers brushing against Bull’s hot flesh.  “I didn’t think you could ever feel the same.”

“You really are an idiot.”  Bull didn’t think he’d ever been insulted in so loving a tone.  “Did you really think I kept coming back because you were a rebound?”

Bull shrugged.  “Not a lot of rebounds under the Qun.”

“But _you’re_ the one that called it that.”

Bull shrugged again.  “Didn’t know what else to call it.”

Dorian rolled his eyes again, his fingers slipping from Bull’s cheek to rub at the lobe of his ear, making Bull’s head dip that direction as his eye slid almost shut.  “Well, let me assure you most rebounds don’t go on for months.  Nor do they typically extend to spending multiple evenings per week with each other around those overgrown children you call the Chargers.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying, coming to you was never about Cullen Bull.  I’ve been used like that before and…”

“Dorian…”

Dorian sighed softly before continuing, “Well let’s just say I wouldn’t do that to someone.  Especially not someone that I…cared about.”

“I really am an idiot aren’t I?”

“Yes, yes you are,” Dorian grinned.

“You…” Bull started, breaking off as Dorian’s laughter echoed through the room, reminding Bull of how long it had been since he’d heard it.  Fuck, he really was an idiot.  If not, he’d have realized that after that day in the desert Dorian had stopped laughing, and it was really, really good to hear it again.  “I’m sorry, Dorian.  I should have talked to you…”

“Yes, well, I suppose I shouldn’t have run away like a child who’d been denied a toy,” Dorian admitted, stretching his hand up to curl around Bull’s horn.

“Oh, so is that what I am to you?  A toy?”

“Only in the best ways Amatus,” Dorian grinned, and Bull froze.  Amatus.  Beloved.  But Dorian couldn’t possibly mean it, could he?   Noticing Bull’s silence Dorian pulled his head back so he could peer up at Bull.  “Bull?”

Seeing nothing but concern in Dorian’s eyes Bull managed to find his voice.  “Say it again.”

Dorian’s eyes flared, and then concern was replaced with a far more intimate emotion.  “Amatus.”

Bull shivered at word, purred quietly to him and then his arm was wrapping around Dorian’s waist, pulling the mage tight against him as he kissed those lips that had been haunting his dreams.  A nip at Dorian’s lower lip had the mage opening to him with a soft sigh, Bull’s tongue sweeping in to taste the familiar cinnamon and spice taste of his lover.  Feasting on the man before him Bull deepened the kiss for several moments before scattering kisses along Dorian’s jaw, finally reaching his ear and nipping at the lobe before whispering, “Kadan.”

 

 


	13. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Sunday Prompt: Dorian is assumed dead only to return months or 1 year later. Things has not gone well for Bull during this time.

Something wasn’t right.  Well, something besides the fact that they were right now having to cut down Red Templar forces in the lushest place he’d found in all his time in the South.  His axe tearing through the Templar knight’s sternum, Bull looked up as the body crumbled before him just in time to see a Templar shadow drop out of stealth, his knives cutting deep, bloody tracks through Dorian’s copper skin before the mage could even blink.  _“Kadan!”_

Fuck, that was what was wrong.  There hadn’t been enough Templars for an actual squad.  Bull should have known that, should have anticipated.  Shoving past where the Boss was battling with a Templar Guard Bull’s eyes never left the pair before him, not when Dorian spun around, a spell already falling from his lips and his fingers, the Shadow freezing in place before being shattered into a thousand pieces by Dorian’s staff.

Completing his turn, Dorian ended up facing Bull again, pain etched on his features as he stumbled.  “Amatus…”

Bull read the word on his lover’s lips and then, just as he finally got close enough to scent Dorian’s blood in the air the mage fell backwards, resignation on his face rather than surprise as he slipped over the edge of the cliff.  _“Dorian!”_

Bull stumbled as he hurried to the edge, clinging to faint hope that he would find his lover on a ledge or clinging to some bit of shrub instead of…fuck.

He didn’t even know he’d hit his knees until the Boss was beside him, her fingers curled around his horns as she pulled his head to her belly.  “Fuck, Bull, I’m sorry.  Dorian…he…fuck…just _fuck_.”

Cass joined them a moment later, her hand falling heavily on Bull’s shoulder.  “I will go down and make sure…”

Bull wanted to scream at her.  To tell her that there was nothing to ‘make sure’ of.  He’d seen Dorian’s body as well as they had.  Had seen the way it was splayed out in grotesque angles among the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall.  You didn’t just walk away from a fall like that…not with the wounds Dorian had.  In the end he said nothing, because he feared if he started to scream he just wouldn’t stop.

He wasn’t certain how long he knelt there, the boss’s fingers scratching comfortingly at the base of his horns.  It didn’t seem like long enough though when she finally whispered, “Come on, it’ll take Cass awhile to find a way down.  We should get away from here.”

But here was where he wanted to stay.  Or more accurately, he wanted to be down there with Dorian and it was frightening just how easy it seemed like it would be to take the one step that would bring them back together _.  Fuck, Vint, leave it to you to go the one place I can’t follow._

It almost seemed that the Boss could hear his thoughts as she helped him to his feet, retaining possession of his arm like that would stop him if he really wanted to end it.  Except no matter how tempting, Bull wouldn’t let himself go like that.  If only because the ‘Vint would kill him for daring to even think it.

 

When they finally found a path down from the plateau they were on the Boss refused to let Bull go anywhere near the stream, insisting instead that they setup camp for the day.  As the Boss penned a missive to Leliana explaining what happened Bull began chopping up wood for a fire.  He found the repetitive action calming, his mind going blessedly quiet as he moved a log into place, cut it down, shifted and split it then cast the pieces off to the side.

So focused was he on the brainless activity that he missed Cass stumbling back into camp, her armor soaking wet and her lips blue from cold.  “Cass, what in Andraste’s sweet ass,” the Boss muttered, scrambling to her feet and hurrying to the obviously shaken warrior.

“He’s gone.  Dorian.  His body is gone,” Cass whispered, stumbling as the Boss loosened her gauntlets and pulled them off.

“What do you mean gone?”

“The water, it was so strong.  I tried to follow it, to see if I could find him.  It pulled me under...”

“Shit Cass,” the Boss growled, moving on to tug at the warrior’s chest plate.

Bull dropped his axe, heading towards his tent and pulling a blanket from its depths before returning to the pair.  Dropping it on Cass’s shoulders Bull let his hands linger. 

“I’m sorry Bull,” the warrior whispered, one hand coming up to curl over his.

Tightening his grip on her Bull admitted, “You’re alive and he’s not.  You did the right thing coming back.”

Cass’s head dropped, her eyes closing as a grimace crossed her lips. “Yeah, well it sure didn’t feel like it.”

Bull felt like there was something else he should be saying.  Some absolution he should be granting but if the truth were to be told he agreed with her and couldn’t find it in him to pretend otherwise.  Not while his heart was still aching over a man he’d never see again.

 

 

He woke with a start, panicking when he attempted to sit up only to find that he couldn’t move.  That wasn’t right, he was fighting…he was fighting…fuck, why couldn’t he remember who he was fighting?  Feeling his breathing pick up his eyes darted around the room, first taking in the strips of material that were tying his arms down to the bed he was laying on then skimming over the simple room. 

It appeared to be a farmhouse of some sort, a sturdy wooden table with benches on both sides taking up most of the room along with a couple of woven chairs that were sitting closer to the fire, almost close enough that he could touch them if only he could get his hands free.

Growling in frustration, he found himself reaching inside for something he couldn’t identify until he saw the tiny flame spring to life in his palm.  A mage, he was a mage.  He felt like some little piece clicked into place in his mind and with a focused flick of his wrist he set fire to the bandages binding his wrist to the cot then quickly cast an ice spell as soon as he was free.

He didn’t remember magic giving him such a headache before, he thought with a soft sigh as he raised a shaking hand to his forehead.   And when had he gotten so weak?

“Oi!  Don’ be ruining all my hard work now.”

His eyes darted to the door where a middle aged brunette woman stood, her expression concerned even as her green eyes twinkled.  Frowning slightly, he wracked his brain trying to pull up a name but only encountered the same blank space he’d found when he’d tried to remember his own.  “Do I know you?”

The woman laughed, nudging the door shut with her hip before crossing to the table to lay down her basket of vegetables.  “That ‘pends on ifin you remember the other times you woke up, Dearie.”

“Other times?” He scowled, a faded memory crossing his mind of pain, so much pain, and screaming that he had a feeling had to have been his own.  “What happened?”

“Now that’s the question innit it?” The woman chuckled, filling a cup with water from a pitcher before approaching him, her brows arching as she took in the charred remains of his restraints laying on the ground beneath him.  “So, mage are ya, I wondered from yer clothes.”

“My clothes?” he parroted, only belatedly realizing how very large the tunic and cotton pants he had on were.

“Aye, those was Bernie’s.  He was my husband, Maker rest his soul.  Yer things weren’t fit to use as rags.”

“I don’t remember anything,” he admitted, ducking his head as a wave of uncertainty ran through him.

“Ah, Dearie, don ya worry, it’ll come back, ol’ Margie’s sure of it,” the woman assured him with a chuckle.  “I’m Margie by the way, case ya was wonderin’.  Now, let me help ya sit up and ya can drink this here water while I get somethin’ hot fixed up.”

He couldn’t help but think that Margie was stronger than she appeared.  She certainly had no problem setting the cup of water down to grip him under his arms and tug him up until he could lean back against the headboard.  It was a sharp contrast to the way his hands shook the moment she put the cup in his hands, his limbs so weak he would have spilt the water everywhere if Margie hadn’t clucked to herself and wrapped her own strong hands around his.

Once he had drank his fill Margie took the empty cup with her as she headed towards the table, grabbing a knife along the way and deftly beginning to chop up vegetables and drop them into a pot.  “Can’t rightly say what happened to ya, but when I found ya you was right near dead.  Broke yer leg and arm, cut up to shit and pretty sure ya crack’d that head of yours.”

She paused in her tasks, waving the knife wildly in his direction as she regarded him thoughtfully.  “Ta be honest, I figured you’d die on me that first night.  Then figured it would be the second, then the third.  Round about the eighth I decided you was too stubborn to die and I set about fixing up you up best I could.”

He flexed both legs, pleased that they responded to his command even if the right one was a little sluggish.  Then the true meaning behind her words sunk in. “But if my limbs were broken and they’ve had time to heal, how long have I been here?”

Margie frowned and went back to her slicing.  “Let’s see, fished ya out a the river on the seventh of Bloomingtide, just after the Summerday festivities ended and today’s the twenty fifty of August.”

“But…but that’s,” he muttered, quickly doing the math in his head. Fifteen weeks.  He’d been lying in that bed for almost fifteen weeks.  No wonder he was weak as a kitten.  How could he have been missing for that long without anyone looking for him?  Was there truly no one to claim him?

“Oi, you ok over there?”

He startled, looking up to find Margie regarding him critically.  “What?  Oh, yes.  Sorry.  I fear it’s rather disconcerting to learn that I’ve lost over a quarter of the year.”

“Aye, can see how that’d be.”

“Maker, not to mention I’ve taken up your time for the past several months.  I’m not really certain what I can do to repay you but I would be happy to assist in whatever way you might require.”

Margie laughed.  “Eh, a little broth and some water has kept you just fine.  Other than that it was just a matter of not stepping on you.  Still, harvest is in a few weeks, if we can get you on your feet by then I wouldn’t turn down the extra hands.”

He looked at his two hands and couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be laughing right about now.  Still, there was no denying that even after almost four months of bed rest he still bore the calluses of hard work on his palms.  Perhaps if he could get back to work then he’d start to remember just where he belonged.

 

Three weeks later he was fairly certain that wherever it was that he _did_ belong, it wasn’t here, wielding a scythe and harvesting hay.  Oh, not that he begrudged helping Margie, it was certainly the least he could do to repay her for dragging his broken body out of the river.  But that didn’t change the fact that when he healed his bloody hands every night, the sores didn’t match up to his calluses. 

“You working or daydreaming, Healer?”

He snorted.  “If I was a healer I have to be the shittiest one in history.”

Margie chortled.  “Well, ya ‘member your name an’ I’ll call ya that.”

“You’re a hard woman Margie, a hard woman,” he chuckled, reaching down and wrapping his hand around the base of a thick patch of hay, twisting it before cutting through the entire bundle with one swing. 

They fell into a familiar pattern after that, leapfrogging their way through the last of Margie’s small field before finally straightening again and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t breathe a sigh of relief at finally being finished.  Something that pulled another chuckle of glee out of the older woman.  “Ya did good, Healer.  What wit’ havin’ no skill what so ever at farmin’.”

“Yes, well I was bred for perfection,” he popped off, only to startle at his own words.  Bred for?  What in Andraste’s sweet name did that mean?  Apparently Margie wondered the same thing as she scowled in his direction.

“You go ‘membering who ya was, Healer?”

“No,” he frowned.  Which wasn’t a lie, but nor was it quite the truth.  His words had been true, he just didn’t know why he knew that.  “I’m not quite sure where that came from.”

“Well, come on,” she shrugged, reaching out to slap at his shoulder.  “It’ll come back or it won’t.  Standin’ round here ain’t gonna make it happen any faster and supper’s waitin’.”

His stomach grumbled as if on cue, gaining him another chuckle from Margie as she led the way back to the house.

He could tell from the way Margie kept glancing at him over dinner that she had something to say and judging by the heavy sighs that accompanied the glances he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever it was.  He knew she had finally made up her mind when her fork hit the table with a loud thud.  “So, Healer.  I ‘preciate the help with the harvest, but I’ve been thinkin’.  Ya been awake for weeks now and no closer ta ‘memberin’ who ya was then when ya woke.”

“And your point?”

She leveled a stare at him.  “Point is, I think it’s time for ya to go.”

He felt like he’d just been kicked in the stomach, his dinner turning over uncomfortably as he attempted to keep a blank expression on his face.  _Should have known it’d happen sooner or later.  You never have been the sort people like to keep around for any length of time._   Shit, where had that come from?  It was harder than he had expected to keep his tone level.  “I see.”

“Naw, don’ think ya do.  But a fella like you, people gotta be missin’ ya.  And me, I’m here just so people _don’_ go missin’ me.  I likes it quiet, just me and Bernie, well, me and our mem’ries.”  She broke off for a moment, obviously lost in one of those memories only to come back to herself with a little start and a slam of her hand against the table.  “Anyways, ya needs ta go.  Last trader through here said all kinds a people are goin’ ta Skyhold.  Templars and mages, workin’ together even.  Ya’d be safe there.”

“Safe?” he chuckled, a little bit of that huge pit in his stomach twisting into indignation.  So he might not know his name, or have a staff for that matter, but he was still capable of taking care of himself.

“Laugh if ya want, Healer.  But things ain’t right right now.  Bad things is in the air an gettin’ closer.”

He frowned at that, wondering if there was more to her suddenly wanting him gone than she’d said.  _Since when has anyone ever needed a reason to get rid of you?_ Somehow he knew that that was entirely true.  And Margie had been kind to him.  If she wanted him gone then her reasoning should be her own.  “Of course.  If you’ll just point me in a direction I shall leave in the morning.”

 

 

In the end, he had stayed two more days.  Margie had insisted that he be properly outfitted for the journey, including enough bronto jerky and hard biscuits to last him a month.  Which didn’t say much about her faith in his ability to follow directions as the journey should take less than half that.  The little rude voice in his head just told him that she wanted to make certain he made it where he was going without having an excuse to return, but that wouldn’t have explained the tears he’d seen welling in her eyes when she embraced him tightly before nudging him on his way.

As he wound his way through the line of wagons, horses and assorted people on foot, all headed up the steep mountain road that he’d been told led to Skyhold, he appreciated the heavy cloak of black wolf fur she’d pressed upon him the final night.  Of course, if he’d known this Skyhold was in the middle of a frozen mountain range when she’d suggested it, he might have never left.

His brief chuckle was cutoff midstream when his own breath froze in front of him, the wind whipping across the back of his neck until he was forced to pull even the hood up on the cloak, essentially burying himself in thick black fur as Bernie had obviously been a much larger man.  His fingers idly stroking through the fur lining the inside of the cloak he was so focused on just putting one foot in front of the next that he almost missed the moment that Skyhold came into view. 

It was the gasps that alerted him, his own joining those of the people surrounding him as he took in the enormous fortress that rose like a monolith from the surrounding ice.  It was stunning, and gorgeous, and so fucking familiar he found himself stumbling to a stop, a flurry of memories flashing through his mind so fast it left him dizzy.  Empty courtyards, crumbling halls, roaring fires in stone hearths, stacks of books, comfortable chairs, crying birds and beyond it all this feeling that he knew this place.  That he _belonged_ in this place.

Feet still uncertain, he surged forward.  He knew that watchtower…he knew that bridge.  Running now…he knew that gate and those stairs and that ring, the _training_ ring…

Stumbling to a stop in front of a door, the sign above it reading ‘The Herald’s Rest’, he found that the hand that reached for the handle was shaking.  Everything in him screamed that this was where he belonged even though he still had no clue why and he found himself lowering his hand and taking a couple of deep breaths, suddenly terrified of what he’d find on the other side.

_A Pavus does not hide from his fears._

He frowned.  Pavus?  Pressure formed behind his eyes, it was familiar, so damn familiar, even if the voice in his head had belonged to someone else this time.  Drawing in a deep, resigned breath he reached for the door again with somewhat steadier hands.

His first thought was that it was loud, loud in the way only a small space filled with happy people could be.  His next was that it was hot, blessed, blessed heat seeping into his bones and making him sigh in contentment as he stepped further into the room, letting the door close behind him.  Raising his hands to push back his hood he hadn’t even had a chance to lower it all the way before a gasp went through the room followed by absolute silence.

Finally looking at the patrons he found his eyes darting from a pair of men in soldier’s uniforms to a dwarf, his shirt unbuttoned to display an alarming amount of chest hair, sitting beside a dark haired woman, the scowl on her face directed at the dwarf even though her eyes had darted to him.  A redheaded woman with her hands raised to her lips, the dwarf behind the bar, the qu…the qun…

Before he could get the thought out, his head pounding now as though his brain was trying to exit his skull, he found said skull slammed against the wall behind him, his feet lifted clear off the ground by the largest Qunari he’d ever seen in his life.  Gasping for air past the fingers curled around his throat he could barely hear the screams that happened around him over the pounding of blood in his ears.

“Sweet Maker…”  “It can’t be…”  “Bull, no…”  “But he was _dead_ …”

Bull.  His mind locked onto that.  Instinctively knowing that was the man before him, the one with his face so close he could feel his breath, hot and heavy against his cheek.  “He _is_ fucking dead,” _Bull_ growled, strong, silver fingers tightening their hold on his throat.  “So who the fuck are you?”

“I…I…” he stammered, his eyes tracking over every inch of silver skin they could find, his heart strangely at peace even though it was pounding fast and hard against his chest.

_Bull_ moved closer, his mouth brushing against his ear, sending a shiver through him as the Bull’s deep voice echoed through him.  “I should kill you now for daring…”

And then he was free, free to drop to his knees on the wooden floor, his own fingers reaching for his throat as though that could possibly help push air through the bruises that were already forming.  From his spot on the floor he watched a pair of booted feet that could only belong to Bull being pulled back by no fewer than five other people, their words too soft for him to understand in his panic.  But there was no mistaking the roar of fury and pain that echoed through the tavern a moment later, those booted feet storming across the room and up a set of stairs until they were lost to him. 

Before he could decide just why he felt their loss like an arrow to the heart a woman dropped to her knees before him, soft palms and fingers tipped with calluses cradling his face and raising it until he could see that it was the redhead from earlier, her eyes full of tears as her fingertips traced the lines of his face.

He knew her…he knew that he knew her…who was she…

“Dorian?”  Her voice broke at the end, more a sob than a question but it didn’t matter because he couldn’t have heard more anyway.

Because memories…so…many…memories.  Evie.  Varric.  Cassandra.  _Bull._

His cry of relief was in no way befitting of the Scion of House Pavus, but damn it, he _remembered_ that he _was_ the Scion of House Pavus so he would have to be forgiven a few tearful, snotty sobs.  And apparently he was as Evie wrapped her arms so tight around him that he feared even being able to breathe.  But who needed air when he remembered.

“Kaffas, Evie…I didn’t know…”

She just tightened her hold on him, her entire body shaking against his. 

“Shit, Sparkler.  We thought you were dead.  Had a memorial and everything dead.”

“Varric…” Cassandra growled, the sound so familiar that Dorian had to bark out a short laugh.

“It’s not funny,” Evie growled, backing up far enough to slap at his chest before surging against him again. 

They held each other for several long minutes, long enough for his memories to settle on his shoulders with a comforting weight.  Then, as if she knew what he needed, and because it was Evie she probably did, her next words were low and for his ears only as she brushed her thumb across his bruised throat.  “He thought you were dead, Dorian.  And he’s blamed himself every damn day for not saving you.”

Dorian snorted.  Because of course he did.  He still didn’t remember everything that had happened that day, but he had a vivid picture of Bull’s horrified face and the feeling of weightlessness…of the inevitability of what was happening.  Kaffas.

Pressing a kiss against Evie’s cheek he released her to stumble to his feet, his eyes meeting Cassandra’s as he demanded with a voice weak as a kitten, “Where is he?”

“His room,” Varric piped up, ignoring Cassandra’s annoyed grumbling even as he reached for her hand.  Perhaps more startling she let him have it.  Hum, it would seem that he had missed out on much…still there were more important matters.

“Please excuse me,” he muttered, every word feeling like a shard slipping down his throat.

He hadn’t noticed Evie still retained possession of his hand until he felt it pulled taunt when he tried to walk away.  Turning back he found a sheepish expression on her face and couldn’t resist grinning at her as he tugged her close for another hug.  “It’s me, I’m back.  Promise, no disappearing,” he whispered against her ear, feeling her nod of agreement before her fingers reluctantly released him.

 

 

Climbing the two sets of stairs was a blur, but when he reached Bull’s door and heard absolutely nothing coming from the other side, Dorian found himself uncharacteristically uncertain.  Through no fault of his own, at least he didn’t think he’d been the cause of his almost demise, he had been the cause of his lover’s pain and it cut through him worse than any winter wind ever could. 

Still, his hesitation wasn’t to decide on entering or not, that was a forgone conclusion.  The question was how to avoid damaging the man that he loved further.  And so he hesitated, pushing what little bit of healing magic he possessed towards his throat, knowing it wouldn’t erase all the damage but perhaps it would be enough…

Pushing open the door slowly he stepped inside and let it close behind him, his eyes adjusting to the scant light provided by the fading fire only to gasp at the destruction he found in Bull’s normally tidy room.  Table and chairs upended, dresser laying on its side with drawers torn out, Dorian’s own looking glass shattered upon the floor and covered with a layer of dust that told him this destruction hadn’t occurred just now, but was old.  Fresh ice pierced his heart at the thought of Bull not even caring enough to bother cleaning up the glass.  In all the room the only things that appeared to have been spared were his books, two stacks of them next to the bed and one where his chair had originally sat. 

Picking his way through the piles of clothing and bedding on the floor he moved further into the room, still looking for Bull and finally finding him sitting on the far side of the bed, arms resting on his knees, head hanging low and still as a statue.  Making the effort to keep his voice low and even Dorian stopped at the foot of the bed.  “Bull.”

“Go away,” Bull sighed, not bothering to raise his head.  “You can’t be him so whoever you are just go away.”

“Amatus,” Dorian whispered, his voice as stricken as Bull’s had been as he cautiously inched closer.

“Too late.  I miscounted and you were falling and _I…was…too…damn…late_!”  By the end Bull was roaring his words, each one punctuated by Bull’s fist hitting the floor so hard that the bed jumped.

Dorian barely recognized the low cry as being his own before he dropped to his knees beside Bull, his hands reaching out to cup both sides of Bull’s head so he could force him to look up, so he could see that beloved silver eye for himself even though the pain he saw in it pulled another cry of despair from him.  “Amatus, I swear, it’s me.  I don’t remember everything but a woman, Margie, pulled me from the river almost dead and I didn’t wake up for months.  By the time I did I didn’t remember who I was.  I swear if I had remembered I would have been here sooner…”

Dorian could see disbelieve warring with hope, the battle played out in exquisite detail on that beloved grey face and Dorian wanted to cry when he saw despair win.  Bull opened his mouth and closed it several times, the frown on is face etching deeper each time until finally he whispered, “Then we left you…”

Kaffas.  He should have thought before he spoke.  Tightening his hold on Bull’s face Dorian moved closer, until his nose was almost brushing against Bull’s.  “None of this was your fault, Amatus.  Do you hear me?  Not a Maker forsaken moment of it.”

“But…”

Dorian cut him off in the only way he had left, his lips pressing a hard kiss to Bull’s scarred lips, then another when the qunari drew in another breath, catching Bull’s soft sigh in his own mouth as he deepened the kiss with a little moan.

Venhedis, how had he forgotten this?  Forgotten the way Bull tasted of citrus even in the dead of winter, the way his skin ran hot and rough against Dorian’s palms.  Tangling his tongue with Bull’s he pressed himself closer only to gasp a moment later when Bull shifted, wrapping a hand around Dorian’s waist and pulling him tight against him. 

Then it was Bull leading.  Bull’s hands shoving his cloak off before skimming over his body, touching every inch of him as though needing to make certain he was truly there.  Bull’s lips scattering kisses across his jaw, nipping at his ear before shifting lower and drawing a little yip of pain out of Dorian.

Dorian grumbled as he was thrust away from Bull’s warmth, fingers lightly brushing at the bruises on his throat that he’d managed to decrease but not remove.  Bull’s eye widened with shock as he remembered what he’d done before softening.  “Shit, Dorian, I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine, Amatus,” Dorian muttered, batting at Bull’s hand so he could move closer again only to find his shoulders wrapped tightly in Bull’s huge hands, his lover regarding him critically.

“It’s not fine, I could have killed you,” Bull grumbled, releasing one of Dorian’s shoulders so he could run his hand over his face. 

It did not escape Dorian’s notice that the hand was shaking as he reached for it, curling his own hand in Bull’s before pulling it up so he could kiss at those beloved, scarred knuckles.  It would seem that he had unintentionally caused the warrior more scars, even if these were less visible.  “I would have taken worse to be back with you, Amatus.”

Bull’s expression softened, his eye focused on where their two hands were joined before slowly raising to meet Dorian’s eyes.  “I was lost without you, Kadan.”

The pain he heard behind those words made Dorian’s heart skip a beat, his own eyes filling with tears.  Cupping Bull’s face with his free hand he whispered, “I’m here, Amatus, I’m here.”

The cry that tore from Bull’s throat was so raw, so broken, Dorian prayed he’d never hear it again.  Then Bull was pulling Dorian closer again, the warrior’s entire body shaking as he gripped Dorian so hard he was sure there would be bruises, as if he would pour them into the same space if he could.

Dorian wasn’t even certain what he said next, whispered words of forgiveness and sorrow, of hope and promise, Tevene and common punctuated with scattered kisses and soft soothing strokes until the seemingly invincible man beneath him finally stopped shaking like a leaf.

  
_You were wrong_ , Dorian whispered to that voice in his head that had suddenly gone rather quiet.  Because there was no doubt in him that here he had found the one place he would be welcome forever.


	14. A Place To Call My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you are taking any prompts, I am fascinated that we don't really see dorian's bedroom in the game. imagine if he really was just too proud to say anything when someone forgets to assign him a room in skyhold so he really does just sleep in the library for weeks until super sleuth bull puts two and two together and either insists on him moving in to bull's room or getting dorian his own.

The first time Bull found Dorian sleeping in the library was not long after they’d finally gotten settled in Skyhold.  Those that had escaped injury during the flight from Haven had been working almost nonstop to bring the ancient fortress back to some semblance of order and Bull simply assumed that exhaustion had finally gotten the better of the ‘Vint as he quietly backed down the stairs and left Dorian to his nap. 

The second time Bull found Dorian sleeping in the library was after all the fucking bullshit went down with his father in Redcliffe.  The Boss had expressed her concern with the amount Dorian was drinking and the fact that he wouldn’t talk to anyone about what had happened.  Bull understood perhaps too well the attraction of forgetting in the bottom of a bottle so when he’d reached the top of the steps and found Dorian passed out, he had gently taken the half full bottle from Dorian’s slack fingers and left one of Stitches’ hangover remedies in its place.

The third time Bull found Dorian curled up in his overstuffed chair was after the first night they’d spent together.  He had been certain they’d both enjoyed themselves, after all it didn’t usually require three times to decide the sex was crap, but Dorian had disappeared on him in the middle of the night and he wanted to make sure that he hadn’t misread pleasure for politeness.  As embarrassing as it was to admit, this was the one time that he actually sat down on the top step and waited for Dorian to wake up.  He could say that it was because the conversation was an important one, but really, there was just something about the way Dorian looked while he was sleeping, his hair mussed in a way he’d never allow during waking hours and the sun lending a warm richness to his copper skin and Bull hadn’t been able to make himself leave.

The fourth time Bull found Dorian asleep in his nook the mage had failed to show up in the tavern after a mission.  That in and of itself wasn’t so unusual, it was just that by then he and Dorian were kind of falling headfirst into whatever this thing was they had going and Dorian had been sending him signals the whole ride home about the two of them finally having some time alone together that did not require fingers shoved in mouths to keep the noise from traveling beyond thin tent walls.

Which brought him to now, the fifth time he’s walked up those curving stairs to find the man he now calls Kadan tucked into his chair, this time with Bull’s own blanket from his pack wrapped tightly around him.  Today he came bearing a sandwich and pot of tea from the kitchens because Varric had been in the tavern early talking about the fact he hadn’t seen Dorian all day.

So the problem wasn’t so much finding Dorian here, that had been expected,  it was just that Bull wasn’t certain what it said about his Ben-Hassrath training that this was the first time he noted the pack that Dorian carried on missions shoved behind his chair.  Which led to really looking at the bottom shelf of Dorian’s bookcase and seeing his small mirror sitting on top of a box that Bull knew contained his toiletries.

Bull frowned, uncertain why Dorian would feel the need to keep his belongings close at hand.  Bull had spent  _years_  on the move and even he had settled in, appreciating the novelty of being able to put clothes into a dresser and leave his horn balm and shaving gear neatly lined up on top of it.  Knowing how little value Dorian credited to himself Bull was concerned that perhaps he felt uncertain of his position within the Inquisition, though Bull found it hard to believe he thought that he would be thrown out so abruptly he had to keep his belongings within reach at all times.

The only problem with that theory was Dorian didn’t carry his pack around with him at all times.  In fact, other than today the only time he saw the ‘Vint with it was when they were either leaving or returning from a mission.  Curious, Bull moved further into the library, chatting casually with a few of the other mages only to find a disturbing trend emerging.  A trend that was confirmed when he finally spoke with Helisma and the tranquil confirmed, “Messere Pavus spends every night in the library when he is in Skyhold.”

Thinking he must have misunderstood, Bull chuckled.  “He does tend to lose track of time when he gets involved with his research.”

“Yes, Messere, but even when he is not working he still sleeps here.”

“What?  But what about his room?”

“I do not know, Messere.  I only know that if he has one he does not use it.”

“Doesn’t…” Bull muttered, more to himself than to Helisma, as he looked across the rotunda to where Dorian still slumbered.  Bull found himself thinking of all the nights he and Dorian had ended up back in his room, of how he had just assumed Dorian wanted to keep his own bedroom private and that was why Bull had never been invited there.  Knowing he’d get nothing out of Dorian if he asked, Bull did the next best thing and headed straight to Josephine.  

 

“I don’t know how this happened, Bull,” Josie muttered, her head still buried in the paperwork that showed that somehow Dorian had never been assigned a room.  “Why didn’t he come to me?”

Bull snorted.  “This is Dorian we’re talking about.  He probably figured you’d get around to him eventually.”

“But we’ve been here for months…where has he been sleeping?”

“The library apparently.”

“The library, but…that is…how could I have…I simply must fix this…I can’t believe…”

Bull shook his head slowly as Josie started pulling files and records and began comparing at least six different documents.   He had no doubt the entire situation would be much more amusing if it had happened to anyone but Dorian.  After all, who knew it was so complicated to get a room assigned?  When he had walked into the tower room he occupied and found that it offered direct access to the tavern as well as two other exits he had just dropped his bags and called it good.    Then again, his room was missing half of a wall and the second story floor threatened to cave in on him any day so perhaps he wasn’t the best example of adequate housing.

Although thinking of his own room did give him an idea.  “Hey, Josie, what would you say to…”

 

Dorian startled awake, his hand immediately going to grab for the non-existant book that would typically have been in his lap only to find himself hopelessly tangled in a blanket.   _Bull’s blanket_ , his nose helpfully provided a second later, drawing a small grin to his face as he’d remembered confiscating it at the end of their last mission.

Closing his eyes again, he drew in the rich scent of his lover that lingered in the wool and enjoyed the novel sense of actually being warm for once.  Reaching for the book that he had actually set on the side table for a change, he knocked a piece of paper onto the floor he was certain hadn’t been there before his impromptu nap.  Retrieving  it with a little sigh he read the words and shot to his feet, his eyes going to the empty space on his bottom bookshelf and the pack that was no longer nestled behind his chair.

With a low growl Dorian read the note again:   _Kadan, noticed you were running out of space for all those trashy novels of Varric’s.  Took your pack to my room for safekeeping, feel free to reclaim it at your convenience._

“My convenience indeed,” Dorian muttered, wrapping the blanket tighter around him as he stormed out of the library and headed towards Bull’s room.  Like it wasn’t bad enough that Josie hadn’t seen fit to assign him a room of his own, now Bull thought he could just walk in and take what little Dorian possessed.  He’d be lucky if Dorian didn’t scorch the horns right off his head for daring to presume, as if he couldn’t have woken him and asked before he just absconded with Dorian’s belongs.  Who even did that?  Perhaps under the Qun that was acceptable as they weren’t really supposed to have belongings as such anyway, but he was not of the Qun now was he?

By the time he reached Bull’s door he had almost convinced himself that it would serve Bull right if Dorian just packed up  _his_ belongings and took them with him.  See how Bull did without his horn balm and his sharpening stone or maybe that little dawnstone axe Evie had given him.  Setting his feet firmly to the ground he pounded on the door, prepared to lambast his lover the moment he opened the door only to be thwarted by Bull calling out, “It’s open.”

“Of course it is because apparently locks are something else the qunari have never heard of,” Dorian grumbled to himself, reaching for the door and letting himself in, his tirade beginning the moment the door was cracked.  “I don’t know who you think you are but…” 

Dorian broke off, frozen one step inside Bull’s room.  Except this didn’t look like Bull’s room.  Gone was the hole in the wall that let in the freezing cold air, patched up with fresh stone and what looked like still wet mortar.  Curtains in a sedate cream color framed a new window, burgundy ties holding them back.  New bedding in the same cream and burgundy sat on the bed, replacing the worn quilt that had been patched so many times Dorian had never been certain what the original color had been.

But it was the new chair that sat next to the fireplace that truly caught his eye.  It too was a deep burgundy, plush and high backed and practically begging him to curl up in it and read the night away and Dorian found himself finally taking a couple of steps forward.

“Kadan?”

Dorian’s eyes shifted to where Bull was sitting in his old beat up chair, padding almost gone but still sturdy enough to take Bull’s weight dropping into it nightly.  Dorian was having trouble identifying the exact expression on Bull’s face and to buy time he whispered, “When did you have all of this done?”

He finally realized that Bull was nervous when the warrior grabbed hold of his horn near the base, twisting at it anxiously as he bit his lip.  “Josie had them come in today.  If you don’t like it though we can change anything…well, anything but the wall, it’s a bit late for that now.”

“If  _I_ don’t like it?”

Bull hung his head slightly.  “Well, yeah.  See, I finally figured it out today and damn it, Kadan, why didn’t you ever tell anyone that you hadn’t been given a room?”

Dorian felt a little pit form in the bottom of his stomach.  Shit, he hadn’t intended anyone to find out.  “It’s not a big deal.”

“Dorian, you’ve been sleeping in that chair in the library for six months,” Bull rumbled, finally storming to his feet and taking a few steps closer before apparently changing his mind and heading toward the dresser instead.  The dresser that Dorian noted now held his shaving kit and other assorted toiletries alongside Bull’s.

Suddenly it all became clear, and he knew that if he went through the dresser he would find at least one drawer that contained his meager quantity of clothing.  Kaffas, he really wished Bull hadn’t…

Embarrassment turned his words acidic.  “So what?  You just decided to take pity on me and move me in here?  Vishante kaffas, I can’t believe you.  Did you even once stop to think that I’m not here that often, that I spend most of my time on the road with Evie and that there are others who need a room more?  Did you ever think that I don’t need to be  _saved_?”

He watched as anger chased surprise on Bull’s face before Bull settled on incredulous.  “So let me see if I understand you.  Because you work your ass off on missions with the Boss you aren’t entitled to have a room, a ten by ten space, that you can call your own.  That it’s selfish to want someplace to retreat to at the end of the day that isn’t the corner of a public space?”

_Well when he put it that way_.  Dorian shrugged.  “I figured Josie would assign me something when she got around to it.”

“Dorian,” Bull scoffed, his stare telling Dorian just how silly he thought his reasoning was.  With a shake of his head and a deep sigh Bull started towards him again.  “Kadan.  I didn’t have the room fixed up because I felt sorry for you.  I did it because I figured if we were spending most of our time here then it should at least reflect something of you.  But if you don’t want to stay here then we’ll go to Josie tomorrow and we’ll have her find you something of your own.  Just promise me…no more sleeping in the library.”

Dorian snorted.  “We both know that would be a lie.”

Bull chuckled, reaching for Dorian’s hand and then pulling the mage into his arms once he had it.  “Ok, so promise me that when you wake up from your nap you’ll come here…”

Dorian couldn’t hold back a little sigh as Bull’s warmth began to soak into him and his eyes landed on the new chair Bull had had brought in just for him.  “Well, it is much cozier in here without our improvised skylight.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay?”

Bull’s words were casual but there was no missing the hope Dorian saw shining in his eye and he smiled up at his lover.  “Yes Amatus, it would seem I’ve finally found a room.”


	15. Dr. Pavus, I Presume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull prompt Sunday - Dr Frankenstein!Dorian

He supposed it was only appropriate that it ended with Alexius considering it had started with Felix.  Or more specifically, with Felix contracting the blight and the way that it tore apart Dorian’s rather ordered life.  In this, he and Alexius were evenly matched, for Felix truly was the best of them and the world would be a darker place should he leave it.

As the carriage rattled on, Dorian pulled out a battered leather book, ‘Journal of Dorian Pavus’ stamped in gold on the cover and opened it to the first page.  Smoothing his hand over his own familiar script he muttered, “Maker, was it only three years ago?”

 

7th of Wintermarch 9:35 Dragon

Received news today that Felix’s carriage was beset by darkspawn on the way to Hossberg.  Livia was killed instantly but according to Alexius’s missive Felix was rescued and is currently being transported to Alexius’s country estate.  Father is insisting that I remain in Minrathous to continue with the debates on the lower floor, but I have already contacted Sahid to have a carriage outfitted for the journey.

 

10th of Wintermarch 9:35 Dragon

The Blight.  What more is there to say?

 

15th of Wintermarch 9:35 Dragon

Buried Livia today.  Father was unable to attend but managed to send a delightful message demanding my presence in Minrathous immediately.  Even if I were predisposed to returning, the fact that Alexius has not slept in the eight days I’ve been here would take precedence over such desires.  The servants are beginning to suggest that perhaps the strain has been too much for him…

 

20th of Guardian 9:35 Dragon

Alexius is either a genius or the madman the servants are claiming him to be.  He approached me only days after my last entry to present me with his papers on temporal magic and a theory that it should be possible, using a lyrium anchor, to return to a desired point in the past.

Perhaps more concerning than Alexius potentially being insane is that I can see no reason why his theory wouldn’t work which might make me just as mad.  I would face being called worse for the chance to save Felix.

 

3rd of August 9:35 Dragon

Is it wrong of me to have spent All Soul’s Day celebrating not only the memory of Livia but also to giving thanks for the fact that Felix yet lives.  While Alexius and I have as yet been unable to crack the secrets of time travel, we have been able to create a potion that has dramatically slowed the effects of the Blight on Felix.  I wish I could say that he is like his old self, but quite frankly I appreciate having him here in any form.

 

7th of Wintermarch 9:36 Dragon

One year since Felix was struck down, and while he remains healthy enough to move about the estate, we are no closer to finding the key to temporal travel.  I must admit, if only here, that I am starting to doubt the feasibility of Alexius’s theory. 

I do however have one of my own, one which while not the ideal solution might at least provide a measure of success to the endeavor.

 

10th of Bloomingtide 9:36 Dragon

Frustration has ruled the day today.  Because after spending the past several months not only working on Alexius’s concept but also researching the feasibility of my own theories, Alexius refused to look at them.  While I have long been aware that my training as a Necromancer is a sensitive subject for Alexius, I did not expect him to dismiss my ideas without even listening to them. 

This does not change the fact that I believe it should be possible to recall a recently departed spirit to its body using a combination of Necromancy and blood magic.  Which is not to say that I approve of the wholesale use of blood magic, but in this case, I believe that the boost I would gain from sacrificing my own blood to the spell could make the difference between simply calling any spirit within reach to inhabit the body and actually being able to direct my summons towards a specific spirit. 

 

13th of Kingsway 9:36 Dragon

Progressive experimentation with first rats then birds and now a nug have proven that it is indeed possible to reanimate a recently deceased corpse for longer than the short periods typically utilized by Necromancers during battle.  As of today, the nug has survived for 37 days, the rats and birds I had to put down as there was some degeneration of tissue which I believe now resolved with the inclusion of daily doses of elfroot potions.

 

22nd of Harvestmere 9:36 Dragon

Alexius refuses to listen to reason.  His temporal research has hit a dead end and Felix is fading fast, yet he refuses to allow us to return to Minrathous so I can begin human trials.  I have already advanced my testing to canines with great success, but without the ability to converse with the subject it is impossible for me to determine what type of spirit actually inhabits the bodies I have been reanimating.

 

1st of Wintermarch 9:37 Dragon

I have been forced to return to Minrathous alone.  I fear that Felix may not be long for this life and if I am to have a chance at saving him I need human subjects.  After contemplating various avenues to procure my test cases I have decided to setup a lab in the slums of Minrathous.  By offering monetary compensation to those that are dying anyway I anticipate being able to learn enough about my subjects to determine if it is truly they who return or simply a passing spirit or demon.

 

26th of Drakonis 9:37 Dragon

I have been successful in not only establishing a lab but also in recruiting my first test subject.  Indeed, having now spent several months within shouting distance of the brothels and gambling dens I believe I should have no shortage of subjects, poor retched souls.

 

30th of Drakonis 9:37 Dragon

First test was a failure.  As the spirit that returned to the body either refused to speak or was unable to I am uncertain as to whether it was my test subject or simply a passing demon.  Either way the subject turned aggressive and I was forced to destroy it.

Question:  Why did none of my animal subjects express aggressiveness post-mortem?

 

17th of Justinian 9:37 Dragon

I seem to travel beneath a cloud of failure.  While I have been successful twenty two times in reanimating a corpse I have been forced to destroy each one within minutes or risk my own death and dismemberment.

After the fourth try I learned to chain the subject to the table but every attempt to communicate with the recently revived has only served to agitate the subject, leaving me to believe that I am missing a key step in calling back a specific spirit.

Suspending live test subjects until further research can be performed.

 

3rd of Solace 9:37 Dragon

Was the recipient of an unexpected visit from father today.  Apparently he has been laboring under the impression that I have turned to drink and debauchery to distract myself from Felix’s impending death.

While I thanked him for the reminder of Felix’s mortality I let the remainder of his beliefs stand.  To do otherwise would have been to court his demands of my returning to the Magisterium and I have more important work to accomplish at this time.

 

4th of Kingsway 9:37 Dragon

Andraste willing I may have discovered the solution to my problem.  One which I am an idiot for not seeing before, but I blame at least part of that on the fact that simply utilizing blood magic is a new experience for me and I had not considered that where the blood came from might have some bearing on who I am bringing back.  The answer was found in an ancient text, the contents of which I am slowly translating.  I hope to have enough transcribed to begin clinical testing again shortly.

 

18th of Kingsway 9:37 Dragon

Kidnapped.  I have actually been kidnapped by my own father.  My own fault I suppose for he has been threatening me for years with disinheritance should I fail to finalize my marriage to the Everens’ girl.  This delay has had one unexpected benefit in providing me access to father’s library to further my translations.

If it wasn’t Felix’s life on the line it would almost be amusing to see how long Father actually believes he can hold me captive.  I’m feeling rather like the heroine in one of those tawdry novels.

 

15th of Haring 9:37 Dragon

I have returned to Minrathous with the clothes on my back and what little gold I could steal.  I dare not return to my previous labs and can only hope that my funds prove sufficient to resume clinical trials.  The only positive thing I can say of my imprisonment is that I was able to complete the translations and believe that my next trial will be successful.

 

22nd of Guardian 9:38 Dragon

Because of my change in fortune I have been forced to accept that my prior recruiting methods are no longer feasible.  I have however found a suitable alternative in the black market slave auctions.  Had you asked me prior to now if I believed that the vast majority of slaves were treated well I would have told you yes, that it was poor business to destroy valuable assets.

I have now learned better and while I can promise none of the slaves a long life, I can at least make certain that the ones who are already dying do so with some level of comfort and compassion.

Unfortunately my first purchase was made in haste and the man had far more internal injuries than I had anticipated and he expired for a second time on the table only moments after I revived him.  I will be certain to examine the next subject far closer.

 

1st of Drakonis 9:38 Dragon

Success!

I have been successful with the most unusual of subjects.  A Qunari.  Huge and battle scarred, he lost one eye and the tips of two fingers in the arena, though the man who brought him to me insists that it took twelve men to bring him down.

While I admit to finding the man intimidating, there is no doubt that he possesses the qualities I require in a subject, predominately injuries that are, by all standard healing methods, simple rather than caused by lengthy illness or neglect.  As such I paid a healer a substantial quantity of my remaining gold to remain on standby long enough to allow the patient to expire and for me to perform the ritual.

Though the man had lost much blood to his injuries I was able to recover enough to combine with mine and allow me to cast the initial spell, anchoring his spirit to this world.  From there it was simply a matter of waiting for him to breathe his last before forcing some of the life giving liquid down his throat and performing another incantation.

I did experience a moment of fear when he breathed his first and attempted to lunge off the table, but the chains held and the doctor was quick to sedate him and see to his injuries.  Even now, he sleeps in the other room, and I anxiously awake his return to consciousness.

 

3rd of Drakonis 9:38 Dragon

I may have been presumptuous with my claims to success as my test subject has yet to reawaken following the procedure.  The doctor assures me that physically the man is in no danger, the question is whether he will retain his mental faculties.

 

4th of Drakonis 9:38 Dragon

His name is Hissrad.  He refuses to speak further, but that he was able to provide me with that information proves my success.  The problem now lies in the fact that he is significantly larger and stronger than myself and as such I have been loath to remove his chains.

 

15th of Drakonis 9:38 Dragon

While I refuse to allow him unfettered access to the room, he is able to sit up and feed himself without assistance.  I am in desperate need of a Qunari language book however as he seems unfamiliar with either Common or Tevene.

 

20th of Drakonis 9:38 Dragon

Liar!  He has understood me all along.  A fact I was only made aware of when I returned to his room unexpectedly tonight and found him rummaging through my research materials.  In all honesty he did not see fit to admit to his deception, but there is an intelligence in his eye that I cannot pretend does not exist.

 

22nd of Drakonis 9:38 Dragon

Apparently Hissrad has decided that continued silence isn’t in his best interest and has begun to answer at least simple questions in Common.  I have endeavored to explain the miracle of his rebirth to him but received only a frown in response.

 

4th of Cloudreach 9:38 Dragon

Of all the stubborn, unreasonable fools it has ever been my misfortune to meet.

My correspondence to Alexius has been returned unopened.

I have sent word to Sahid in the hopes that he can be convinced to loan me one of Father’s carriages so that I may take Hissrad with me as proof of my success. 

 

5th of Cloudreach 9:38 Dragon

In preparation for the journey I released Hissrad from his chains tonight.  As of yet he has made no attempt to leave but I doubt that I shall sleep tonight for fear of never waking.

 

6th of Cloudreach 9:38 Dragon

Sahid indeed sent the carriage today, along with my father.  I could pretend surprise, but I suppose one more confrontation was inevitable.

The meeting, while unpleasant, did have one unintended side effect.  When my father realized what I had accomplished and attempted to strike me for ‘daring to interfere with the natural order’ Hissrad placed himself in harm’s way to protect me.  Dare I believe that this means I might not be killed by him while traveling to Alexius’s?

Tonight shall be the first test as after incapacitating Father we took advantage of his coach to begin our journey.

 

 

Finally reaching a blank page, Dorian sighed softly then dipped his quill in ink and began to write…

 

9th of Cloudreach 9:38 Dragon

Gone.  Alexius and Felix both.  His servants could only tell me that they had headed south.  Something about a village in Ferelden that Alexius thought held the solution to his temporal research.

Here I sit with the solution to Felix’s illness currently drooling on my curtains only to find Felix suddenly beyond reach. 

I have no choice but to travel south to Redcliffe.


	16. Fringe Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull prompt Sunday! - "Sera...I'm warning you..." Dorian said as he tried warning her for the third time, but Sera had a huge smirk as she held a bottle of her newest flask in-between her fingers. "Aww C'mon, I need a test-dummy, and I bet Bull's gonna love it when he gets a whiff of this stuff on you" "But you said it would only make me resistant to Dragon breathing elements and enhanced my defense! You sounded very sure of that" "Yea, supposed to, but that's why I want you to try it out!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, slight disclaimer that this is definitely NSFW and pure unadulterated smut so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip this one :)

Dorian stormed up the stairs, catching sight of Cullen too late to change his course and watching as the man’s nose scrunched up distastefully when he got closer.  When he got near enough to read the question in Cullen’s eyes Dorian growled, “Don’t say  _anything._ ”

Wisely, Cullen kept his mouth shut, teeth appearing as he bit into his upper lip hard enough to draw blood before covering his entire mouth with his hand. Dorian had almost reached the door to the room he and Bull shared when he heard the slightest little snort emerge from the Commander.

“I heard that,” Dorian growled over his shoulder, already too busy turning the handle to bother encasing Cullen with ice, though he was sorely tempted when Cullen’s laughter finally boomed out across the battlement at the same moment Dorian stepped into the room.

Slamming the door behind him instead, Dorian began tearing at the buckles of his robe, the cloying musky scent of dragon following behind him as he muttered, “Kaffas, that is the  _last_ time I listen to Sera.”

“What was that Kadan?”

Dorian’s shriek was accompanied by a leap that would have done a halla proud, his hand grasping at his chest in an effort to control his pounding heart.  “Festis bei umo canavarum,” he growled, looking over at where Bull sat in the corner, polishing cloth in his hand and his axe in his lap.  “What are you doing here?  You’re supposed to be training.”

“Krem pulled a muscle,” Bull shrugged, his nose flaring as the scent enveloping Dorian finally wafted toward him.

“Don’t say it…don’t even  _think_  it,” Dorian grumbled, letting his robes drop to the floor and stepping out of them before sniffing at his own skin.  “Venhedis, I am saturated in it.”

A deep, low growl was Dorian’s only warning before he found himself swept off his feet and pinned against the wall, Bull’s nose buried in the hollow of his throat.  “Bull…” he muttered, shoving at the warrior’s shoulders just as Bull’s broad tongue licked a stripe up his neck to right behind his ear, sharp teeth nipping at the tender lobe.

“You smell so  _good_ ,” Bull rumbled, his deep purr vibrating Dorian’s chest with its strength.

“Blasted Sera…said it would make me resistant to dragon fire,” Dorian grumbled, his words panted between soft gasps when Bull moved to the other side of his throat and repeated his earlier actions.

Bull growled in Dorian’s ear, the sound sending a shiver straight through the mage that went directly to his cock.  “Remind me to thank her later.”

“We are not…” Dorian broke off with a low moan when Bull rolled his hips, his cock rubbing against Dorian’s own.

“What was that Kadan?” Bull chuckled, nipping a path across Dorian’s jaw until he could capture his mouth in a kiss that had Dorian melting.

When the need for air finally forced them apart, Dorian pressed a kiss to Bull’s collarbone and muttered, “I smell like a dragon in heat.”

“You smell fantastic,” Bull growled, rubbing his cheek against the top of Dorian’s head and breathing deeply.

“Yes, well, you might be bias,” Dorian snorted, slapping lightly at Bull’s chest.

Bull nipped at Dorian’s earlobe as he ran one finger up the length of Dorian’s erection, still trapped inside his leathers, his voice a sinful deep rumble in Dorian’s ear, “So, does that mean I can’t strip these off you and suck your cock until you come down my throat?”

“Uhmmm…”

Bull shifted, letting Dorian’s feet hit the floor and making certain the mage’s legs would hold him before sinking to his own knees, his breath hot and wet against Dorian’s leathers.  Looking up at Dorian with a little grin, he whispered, “So, what will it be Kadan?”

Heaving an exaggerated sigh Dorian muttered, “I suppose, if you must…”

“Oh, I  _must_ …” Bull purred, fingers deftly pulling at Dorian’s lacings before shoving his leathers down Dorian’s hips only far enough to free his cock.

Then it wouldn’t have mattered if he had rolled in dragon blood, because Bull’s mouth closing hot and wet around his cock drove every thought out of Dorian’s mind except  _more_. His hands sought out Bull’s horns, fingers curling tightly around them as Dorian groaned, “Kaffas…Bull…”

Bull’s only response was to take Dorian in even deeper with a low hum that made Dorian’s knees weak.  Wrapping one huge silver hand around Dorian’s hip, Bull pulled off Dorian’s cock with a loud pop and nuzzled at Dorian’s other hip, the enticing scent of dragon urging Bull on as he sucked at Dorian’s hip hard enough to leave a bruise, the mage’s fingers tightening their hold on his horns as a small whimper reached Bull’s ears.   “Taste so good Kadan…”

“Please…”

Shifting his head Bull licked another stripe up Dorian’s cock, the mage’s head smacking back against the wall hard enough that Bull winced, though Dorian’s only response was to tug Bull even closer.   Bull scooped up the pre-come already gathering at the tip of Dorian’s cock with his finger before following the same path with his tongue, his hand sliding lower to tease at the sensitive skin behind Dorian’s balls, lightly rolling them in his palm as he took Dorian down in long, slow slides.

“Amatus…”  Dorian growled, his hands urging Bull to pick up the pace as Bull’s hand slid even lower, one finger circling temptingly at Dorian’s hole before sliding in.    

Setting up a pace guaranteed to push his lover over the edge, Bull teased at adding a second finger when Dorian began babbling above him in a mixture of Tevene and Common, though by this point it was almost impossible to tell the difference.  Again and again Bull hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard as he pulled back until his lips wrapped only around the crown of Dorian’s cock before sliding back down his hard length, the taste of Dorian melding with the scent of dragon making Bull’s own cock throbbing hard in his pants.

Bull’s hand tightened at Dorian’s hip, his thumb rubbing at the hollow as he tried to decide if it would be worth it to release Dorian to wrap his hand around his own cock, but before he could make up his mind Dorian was crying out, his hips snapping forward as he crested, come hot and bitter coating Bull’s tongue.

Swallowing all Dorian gave him, Bull licked his cock clean while Dorian shook minutely with every touch.  Dorian’s fingers gentled against his horns, fingertips now massaging at the base of them and drawing a little moan of pleasure from Bull.  Beginning to work his way up Dorian’s body, little kisses placed to sweaty skin along the way Bull mumbled, “Keep that up and we’ll never get you into a bath, Kadan.”

Dorian smiled, waiting until Bull worked his way high enough to capture his lips in a deep kiss before admitting, “Yes, well, perhaps I could live with it for a little longer.”


	17. Congratulations?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Sunday Prompt! The Chargers accidentally ruin Bull's proposal surprise by congratulating Dorian since they think Bull already asked. Now Dorian has to play it cool like he doesn't know it's coming.

Dorian slipped from his mount with a wet squish and a loud sigh.  It wasn’t exactly like he’d expected his boots to have magically dried during the three hours it had taken he and Bull to return to Skyhold, but apparently it was too much to even hope that they had stopped taking on water.

“Go on up to the room, I’ll get things sorted here,” Bull offered with a tiny smile as he came around the backside of his own mount.

Dorian tsked, his hand reaching for his saddlebags.  “We spent two days in that damned snow cave, you have to be as cold as I am.”

One huge silver hand, remarkably still warm despite the ride, covered Dorian’s own that was trembling even inside the fur-lined gloves he wore.  For the first time all day Bull chuckled.  “Seriously, Kadan, there are snowmen who are warmer than you.  Go…get a fire started for us.”

With another little sigh Dorian nodded, knowing that it was unfair to let Bull deal with tracking down one of the stable hands, but also knowing how guilty Bull felt that their planned weekend in Val Royeaux had been ruined by an unexpected late spring snowstorm.  Flipping his hand over, Dorian gave Bull’s a quick squeeze before setting off towards the stairs, hoping that by allowing Bull to do this for him now his lover would finally quit apologizing for something that neither of them could control.

Stomping up the stairs to get blood flowing to his feet again Dorian eyed his two options for accessing the room he and Bull now shared.  While the battlement was his normal approach because of the privacy it offered, he had to admit that today the thought of stepping into the warmth of the tavern was outweighing the daunting number of people he’d no doubt have to slip through to get upstairs.  

Dorian decided the storm must have frozen his brain when the first person he saw when he stepped through the tavern door was Krem.  How in Andraste’s sweet ass could he have not factored the Chargers into his equation?

“Back early aren’t ya, Vint?  What’s the matter, couldn’t wait to celebrate with everyone?”  Krem asked with a huge grin as soon as Dorian got close enough he didn’t have to scream.

“Celebrate?”

“Shit, yeah, guess congratulations are in order,” Krem continued, springing off his chair and wiping his hand on his pants before holding it out to Dorian.

Frowning, Dorian was just opening his mouth to ask what Krem had been drinking and suggest that perhaps he’d had enough when he found himself surrounded by the rest of the Chargers.  A chorus of congratulations erupted as Dorian found himself spun in a circle, each Charger either shaking his hand or clasping his shoulder, even Skinner, which quite frankly worried Dorian almost as much as the congratulations he didn’t understand.

When he finally found himself facing Krem again Dorian planted his heels and scowled.  “Not that I don’t appreciate the attention, but what exactly am I being congratulated _for_?”

The silence that settled over the group was almost as ominous as Skinner’s good wishes, the Chargers suddenly staring at anyone but him.  “Cremisius?”

“Shit,” Krem muttered, the one word almost lost when Sera’s excited screech echoed through the room and the rogue dropped down to the ground at Dorian’s side from the second floor. 

“So, when’s it gonna be?” Sera demanded with a nudge of her elbow into Dorian’s ribs.  “Summer?  Fall?  Don’t tell me you’re gonna be a right bastard an’ make him wait for one of those stick up the arse formal things.  And, by the way, I’m not wearin’ a dress.”

Dorian feared that if his frown grew any deeper it would become permanent.  “What in Andraste’s sweet ass are you babbling about?”

Sera nudged him in the ribs again, arching her eyes as she said the next words slowly.  “The wedding.  Don’t care if it is one o’ those fancy little foods sort of a party, I ain’t wearin’ a dress.”

Wedding.  As in wedding?  He and Bull?  Then this little trip… 

“Shit,” Krem repeated, his hand shooting out to steady Dorian before the mage tumbled onto his ass from shock.  “I’m guessing you guys never made it to Val Royeaux.”

Dorian stared blankly at Krem, his mind still trying to process that his Amatus had planned an entire trip to _propose_.  To _him_.  Finally, after blinking several times did nothing to prove that this was all just some frostbite created dream, Dorian muttered slowly, “Caught in a storm, spent the last two days in a snow cave.”

Sera growled softly beside him.  “Oi, you tellin’ me we just ruin’t Bull’s proposal?”

“Technically there has been no pro…pro…statement of intent,” Dorian finally stuttered.

“But there was going to be,” Krem grumbled with an irritated shake of his head as he spun Dorian around and practically threw him up the first couple of steps toward the second floor.  “So you’re gonna forget we said anything and when the Chief finally asks you you’re going to be all surprised…got it?”

“Forget…act surprised,” Dorian parroted back, continuing to climb the stairs by habit rather than conscious thought.  Amazingly enough, habit got him into the room and even through starting a fire, though he found himself looking aimlessly around the room once those few things had been accomplished.

His eyes kept darting from thing to thing, Bull’s axe polish sitting atop a stack of Dorian’s books, a spare pair of Dorian’s robes lying over the chair where they were still waiting to be mended, his training staff leaning alongside Bull’s training shield in the corner.  Suddenly, while looking at the top of the dresser where assorted bottles and tins that belonged to both of them but hadn’t been important enough to take on their holiday lay scattered together, something in Dorian flared to life before settling, warm and comforting in his chest.

Dropping onto the edge of the bed, Dorian chuckled.  He and Bull were all but bonded now, what exactly was he afraid of?  Loosening the buckles on his wet robes, Dorian hummed softly as he stood and made his way toward the dresser.  What was it Krem had said?  Forget about it for now and trust that when the time was right Bull would ask…

 

 

Bull took the steps up to the battlement two at a time, only sparing the briefest of glances toward the tavern.  He had no doubt the boys would be inside, but he wasn’t quite ready to deal with the razzing that he was sure would come the moment they heard his carefully planned proposal, the one he had nearly driven Krem crazy getting the details right on, had been delayed because of snow.  In Skyhold.  Vashedan, the boys were gonna have a field day with that one.

Shit.  The boys.  Dorian.  Bull stilled, his hand still reaching out for the door handle.  What had he been thinking, sending Dorian ahead?  True, the mage typically took the same route he’d just taken himself to get to their room, but Dorian had also been freezing.  What if he cut through the tavern?  All that planning, shit. 

“Nothing to be done about it now,” Bull muttered to himself with a resigned sigh as he resumed his stretch for the door.  Forcing his lips to curl into a smile he wasn’t feeling, he pushed open the door just in time to see Dorian slipping on dry robes, a roaring fire waiting in the fireplace.

“Kaffas, get inside before you let all the heat out,” Dorian grumbled.

“Sorry, Kadan,” Bull muttered, letting the door shut behind him as he shrugged his pack off onto the floor. 

“You should be, I thought the wind on the battlement was bad enough the first time, didn’t know I’d have to deal with it again.”

Bull masked his little sigh of relief behind a cough.  “You could have cut through the tavern you know, guarantee it’s warmer.”

“Yes, and noisy and full of people with nothing better to do than watch as I walk through.  Not that I blame them of course, I am certainly worth watching.”

“That you are,” Bull chuckled, “that you are.”

 

 

A month later, Dorian was standing on the small balcony that overlooked the Val Royeaux harbor, a glass of Sun Blonde Vint-1 in his hand as Bull busied himself filling a second glass for himself.  “The view is wonderful, Amatus.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet,” Dorian chuckled, leaning against the doorframe and shifting his attention from the view to his lover, his fingers clutching tightly to his glass at the look of desire he saw reflected in Bull’s one expressive eye.

“I see everything I need to see,” Bull countered, abandoning his glass to close the distance between them, one silver palm reaching out to cup Dorian’s cheek.

“Be careful, Amatus, or I may accuse you of becoming sentimental.”

“Hummm, if you’re going to level those sort of accusations I suppose I should do something to merit them,” Bull grinned, his hand slipping from Dorian’s face as he knelt before Dorian far more gracefully than a man his size had any right doing. 

“Bull…”

Reaching for Dorian’s hand, Bull set the glass aside and laid a kiss to Dorian’s knuckles before looking up at his lover.  “So, I’ve gotta admit I never pictured this being something I’d ever do in my life Kadan, but then again, I never thought I’d have the chance to fall in love with someone who means more to me than my own life.  Never thought that I would find redemption in a pair of silver eyes or that trading biting comments with a mage from Tevinter would become the best part of any day.  But now, now that I have done all those things I know that I want to keep doing them, Kadan, not just today or tomorrow but for the rest of my life and I’m hoping you feel the same.  Dorian Pavus, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

Dorian found it impossible to speak past the knot in his throat, his hand coming up to rest over his own lips as tears threatened to spill from his eyes.  Sniffling loudly he nodded rapidly, tugging at Bull’s arm until his lover finally stood and then throwing himself into his arms.  “Yes,” he finally gasped out only a moment before Bull’s lips claimed his, and the moment the kiss broke he gasped again, “yes, yes, yes.”

Bull laughed deeply, sweeping Dorian off his feet and heading for the bed as he whispered, “Good, because I really didn’t have a plan if the answer was no.”

 

It wasn’t until much later, as Bull leaned against the headboard with Dorian settled between his legs, the bottle of Sun Blonde passed between them as they took greedy pulls right from the bottle in an effort to cool their heated flesh, that Bull finally whispered against Dorian’s ear, “So, how long have you known?”

“Known what?”

Bull chuckled.  “Nice try, Kadan.”

Dorian sighed.  “What gave me away?”

“Not nearly enough panic in your eyes,” Bull admitted, grunting when Dorian flipped over so he could stare up at Bull.

“I think I’m insulted.”

Bull dropped a quick kiss against Dorian’s pursed lips before admitting, “I may have made Krem listen to my speech a few dozen times.”

Dorian’s grin reached all the way to his eyes, his body relaxing against Bull.  “It was perfect.”

“No less than you deserved.”

“I’m glad I knew,” Dorian admitted, dropping his eyes.  “You deserve more than panic.”

“Well, I had it all planned out,” Bull chuckled.  “You were going to panic, and then you were going to make it up to me.”

Dorian arched a brow.  “I was, was I?”

“Oh yeah, it might have taken all night.”

“Well, future _husband_ , I’ll have to see what I can do about that...”


	18. Bull...The Iron Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> your fic is so rad and wonderful! maybe 007!bull and bond-girl!dorian (well, bond-boy)

Bull curled his fingers around the railing, looking out over the sea of tuxedos interrupted here and there by brilliant dresses in every color of the rainbow.  It would seem that the entirety of Antivan society had chosen to attend tonight’s gala, fortunately Bull only needed one of them.  Leaning a shoulder against the marble pillar beside him he raised his glass and pretended to take a drink, instead quietly asking, “What does the mark look like again, K?”

“For Andraste’s sake, Chief, why do I bother to speak if you aren’t even going to listen?”

Taking a small sip of his drink, just enough to assure himself it wasn’t poisoned, Bull grinned.  “I always assumed it was because you liked to hear yourself talk.”

Ks disgusted grunt echoed in Bull’s earpiece, followed by several seconds of silence before the man finally sighed in defeat.  “Fine.  Dorian Pavus is in his early thirties, exceedingly attractive by all accounts and typically chooses to dress in the current Tevinter styles even though the country continues to refuse him reentry.  He is expected to be accompanying his mentor, Gereon Alexius, this evening…”

“Any reason we aren’t just grabbing the big man himself?”

Another exasperated sigh filtered through to Bull.  “If you had let me finish I would have said that Gereon attending is dependent on his son’s health.  The older Alexius tends to dote on his son, especially since he became ill.  However, even if Gereon chooses not to attend, he will almost certainly insist…”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.  Eyes on Pavus now,” Bull interrupted, his eye taking in the trim figure stepping through the entry in formal Tevinter robes.  He couldn’t say he’d ever been attracted to a man in a skirt before but damn if Pavus didn’t wear it well, the luxurious black fabric draping close but not tightly, hinting at what Bull knew had to be a slim, lithe body.  The high collar that rose around Pavus’ neck only highlighted the kohl he saw rimming the man’s eyes, his cheeks shimmering with some sort of gold powder that rather than making him look feminine, only served to accentuate his masculinity.

Handing off his drink to a passing server, Bull paused for a moment at the head of the stairs, straightening his own shoulders encased in a traditional black tux, his silverite eyepatch shining in the light.  He watched from the corner of his eye as Pavus stepped fully into the room, his gaze falling on the impressive staircase lined with cascading crystal grace just as Bull’s own had done.  Bull knew the moment Pavus caught sight of him, his eyes widening in shock for just a moment before the man recovered, his lips curling into a little grin.

Pleased that K’s intel had apparently been correct about Pavus’ type, Bull began to slowly make his way down the stairs, confident that his prey would seek him out in time.  Skipping the madhouse that was the main ballroom, Bull slipped into one of the smaller rooms, obviously a reading room judging from the books which lined every wall though the furniture had been cleared out for the night and replaced with a mobile bar he knew was staffed with their own people.  Giving absolutely no clue that he recognized Grim, Bull waited patiently while to society matrons debated whether the champagne was quality enough to suit their ten thousand a plate tastes before finally getting a chance to place his own order.  “Medium dry martini, shaken not stirred.”

Grim just arched a brow at Bull, as close to a ‘fuck you’ as the taciturn agent was likely to give.  Which begged the question of just what Grim had done to piss K off that he was stuck with this assignment, which Bull was quite certain had to rank in the top ten jobs that Grim didn’t want to be stuck doing, right behind bus driver, school teacher, translator and anything else that involved actually speaking to live human beings.

Personally, Bull appreciated the fuck out of the man being there though, because while he doubted they’d see any action tonight that didn’t occur between sheets, there was no one Bull would rather have at his back except perhaps K.  What Grim lacked in social skills he made up for as a crack shot and he seemed to have a sixth sense for when an op was going to go belly up.

Taking his drink, the twist of lemon clinging to the glass telling him that Grim hadn’t seen any problems yet, Bull wandered back out toward the main ballroom.  Much as he was hoping Pavus would make the first move, it wouldn’t do to force the man to hunt him down.  Instead, Bull made his way across the crowded space, made smaller by the fact that his horns made him as wide as any two other guests and as he didn’t want the evening to end with his own ejection from the gala he was forced to be cautious.  Eventually he found another wide marble column to lean against, raising his glass to his lips and frowning a moment later.  Fucking Grim, bastard had used vodka instead of gin and if it was shaken Bull would marry an Antivan Crow.

Raising the glass again with no intention of consuming the disappointing drink, Bull growled, “Fucking cute Grim.  See if I warn you next time I see Sera near your locker.”

A quick double tap in Bull’s ear told him Grim had heard him, and obviously K had too since the man began laughing like a loon.  “Not funny, K,” Bull grumbled, “you don’t fuck with a man’s drink.”

“Typically one doesn’t talk to it either which begs the question of which agency you’re with.”

Bull startled.  Actually fucking startled.  Would have dropped Grim’s sad excuse for a martini too if Pavus hadn’t chosen to reach out and steady the hand that was holding it.  Shit, how in Koslun’s name had Pavus gotten the drop on him? 

“If you chose not to answer I’m going to be terribly disappointed and just assume that you really  _ are _ some lunatic who speaks to the stemware.”

“Shit, no…I mean….fuck,” Bull stammered, depositing the offending drink on a passing waiter’s tray before turning back to Dorian and attempting to regain some control with a wry grin.  “Sorry, some sorry excuse for a bartender actually used vodka in a martini.”

Dorian’s mock gasp was loud enough to garner him a glare from a passing society pair.  “Shocking. Absolutely shocking.  It would seem they’ll let just anyone in.”

“Well, at least anyone with enough money to shell out ten grand a plate.”

“Yes, well there must be some limits,” Dorian chuckled, his brow arching dramatically.  “So, what do you say we go find you a real martini and then you can tell me who you work for and why they’re interested in me.”

It was Bull’s turn to laugh.  “The name’s Bull, The Iron Bull,” he offered, holding out his hand.

Dorian didn’t hesitate before sliding his own slim hand into Bull’s.  “I’d tell you I’m Dorian Pavus but I have a sneaking suspicion that you already know that.”

“You seem to have a great many suspicions Messere Pavus,” Bull admitted, finally giving in to the urge to touch, letting his hand rest lightly at the base of Dorian’s spine as he guided the man through the crowds.

“Please, my father would be Messere Pavus.  Magister Pavus actually, though the Southern barbarians prefer to call every Vint they meet Magister.  Personally, I prefer Dorian.”

“Mmmm, Dorian it is then,” Bull practically purred in Dorian’s ear, shifting his body so that he was close enough to smell the light scent of sandalwood clinging to the Vint’s throat.

Bull could have sworn Dorian leaned back into his hold for just a moment, but that could have been because of the crush of people.  Guiding Dorian back to the reading room, bull was pleased to find Grim its sole occupant at the moment.  Approaching the bar Bull’s smile was decidedly on the cold side as he growled, “Medium dry  _ gin _ martini, shaken not stirred and whatever the gentleman would like.”

Dorian arched one brow, smothering a little smirk as he added, “A glass of Sun Blonde Vint-1.”

Bull stayed silent, his eyes locked on Grim as he made Bull’s drink to his specification this time, then once the drinks had been handed over Bull motioned Dorian over to a corner where they could speak without being overheard even if someone else did come in.

Dorian took a small sip of his wine, his eyes closing for the briefest of moments as he savored the flavor and then those sharp, grey eyes were leveled on Bull again.  “I’m surprised you returned to the scene of the crime.”

“Excuse me?”

“The bartender,” Dorian clarified with a dismissive wave of one bejeweled hand.  “After he failed to make your drink correctly the first time I’m surprised you would seek him out again.”

Bull’s grin was positively sinful as he took a step closer to Dorian, effectively trapping the mage between himself and the bookshelf.  “Why Messere Pavus, it would seem you’ve been watching me.”

“It’s Dorian,” the mage reminded him with a dazzling smile.  “And I haven’t taken my eyes off of you since that little preening display you made when I first walked in.  The question is…why?”

“Well, I am rather memorable.”

Dorian chuckled, then frowned, taking another sip of his drink before continuing.  “I meant why did you work so hard to make certain I knew you existed?”

“Ah, and we’re back to the suspicions.”

“I’m from Tevinter, the simple act of continuing to breathe requires…caution.”

“And if I were to say I rather liked you breathing?”

“Really, Chief.   _ That’s  _ the best you could come up with?” K groaned in Bull’s ear.  “You were supposed to convince him to leave with you not run him off.  I mean really…”

Bull tuned out his handler in favor of watching those expressive silver eyes of Dorian’s roll.  “I would say that that has to be the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

“Told you, Chief,” K crowed, and Bull was almost certain he caught a snort coming from Grim’s general direction.

Clearing his throat, Bull shifted a hand to rest against the bookshelf near Dorian’s head.  “Hey, not my fault if you scramble my brain.”

Another quick eye roll and a sip of his wine, then Dorian was turning a surprisingly serious face up to Bull.  “Listen, this has been rather amusing so far and I do so appreciate whoever you work for digging into my background enough to provide such entertaining company.  But perhaps now it would be best for you to just tell me what it is you want from me.”

“Again with the…”

“Cut the shit, Bull,” Dorian growled, pressing one perfectly manicured finger into Bull’s chest.  “People like you don’t just walk into my life by the Maker’s favor.  Which means you want something from me.  Kindly tell me what that is or I’m afraid this little interlude is done.”

“Do not tell him,” K hissed in Bull’s ear. 

Bull studied Dorian for a moment, knowing that he’d lost the mage at some point, but not really understanding why.  Most people liked having their egos fluffed, but it would seem Dorian Pavus liked proving the exception to the rule.  Fine, the mage wanted the truth...

“Let’s just say that the organization I work for…”

“Do you hear me, Bull.  Don’t you dare…”

“…is interested in the research your mentor is doing.”

“ _ Fuck! _ ”

Bull reached up and keyed off his earpiece, knowing there’d be hell to pay for it later but K wasn’t here and there was little doubt in Bull’s mind that Dorian was prepared to walk.  Even now, the mage was studying Bull’s face like it held the secrets of the universe and Dorian was determined to unlock them. 

And because Bull was watching him almost as closely he knew the moment Dorian made up his mind, because his expression softened just the tiniest bit in acceptance.  “Of course, Gereon, I should have known.”

Bull found he didn’t like the resignation he heard in Dorian’s tone, as if he was only a means to an end.  Which Bull supposed wasn’t exactly untrue…but still, it rankled.  “Listen, Dorian, you have to know Alexius is involved with some shady people.  People who won’t be pleased if his research doesn’t pay off.”

“Really?  You don’t say.  You mean the sort of people who would blow up our labs in Redcliffe with me still in them?” Dorian hissed, his expression hardening.  “Thanks for the warning, Bull, but you’re a little too late.”

Before Bull could fully reconcile the fact that Dorian had just admitted to being involved with people who would be willing to kill him without blinking, Dorian shoved past him and slipped through the door back into the main ballroom.  Fuck, why hadn’t he been told?  “K?” Bull growled, not even bothering to pretend to drink because he was way beyond caring at this point.  When K’s mocking voice didn’t pipe up Bull belated remembered he’d turned his piece off and reached up to tap it back on.

Spinning around he found Grim glaring at him, though an arched brow had the agent pointing toward the door as though there were anyplace else Dorian could have gone.  Tapping his earpiece several times to interrupt K’s steady stream of curses, Bull growled, “What’s this about Alexius’ lab being blown up and why the fuck didn’t I know, K?”

“It was deemed unimportant to the assignment.”

Bull paused mid-step.  “You want to say that again, K?”

He could practically hear K’s eyes roll.  “Don’t do this, Chief.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t go trying to make Pavus into one of your ducklings.  The man is working with a secret organization set on undermining the current Tevinter government.  Pavus isn’t the prize here, he’s an asset…a hostile one might I add.”

Growling softly Bull resumed his path towards the main ballroom, tossing his empty drink glass in Grim’s direction and thanking Koslun that he stood a head above everyone else in attendance.  It should make finding Dorian simpler, at least in theory.  Then again, Dorian Pavus was proving remarkably adept at blowing Bull’s expectations out of the water.  Hum, duckling indeed, Bull couldn’t help thinking as he scanned the crowd for Dorian.

So, yes, perhaps he found Dorian attractive.  And yes, the mage might be proving to be more entertaining than he had originally anticipated, but that didn’t mean that Bull was going to try to recruit him.  And even if he did, K really shouldn’t bitch, most of the organization’s top agents had been recruited by him, Grim included.  So if he saw merit in Dorian and might think about offering the ‘Vint a way to escape Alexius, who was K to complain?

Of course, making such an offer was contingent upon first  _ finding _ the slippery Vint.  Bull was just thinking he might actually have to ask K if any of the other agents had eyes on Pavus when he caught sight of Dorian being bustled up the stairs by a small group of men who didn’t exactly look like they belonged at the party.  Shit.

Keeping his eye on Dorian, Bull made his way through the crowd, moving toward the stairs as quickly as possible, reaching the bottom of them just as Dorian was ushered down a hallway on the left.  Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray, Bull tossed it on his own shirt as he hurried up the stairs, leaving the glass on the railing when he reached the top.  Flicking his hand at his now soaking shirtfront, Bull grumbled quietly to himself as he walked down the hallway, finally reaching the doorway where one of the men who’d escorted Dorian away stood.

Stumbling into the wall just short of the man, Bull jerked back upright and met the man’s eyes, keeping his focus unfixed as if he were truly drunk.  “Can yous b’live it…some bastard spilt cham…cham…sparkly stuff all over me.”

The stocky man, Ferelden if Bull’s instincts were correct, set his feet in a classic shooters stance and shifted one hand to the base of his spine.  “Yeah, that sucks buddy.  What’da you say you move along and find a bathroom to clean yourself up in.”

Bull threw his arms up and wide in a gesture only a drunk would make and practically bellowed, “A bathroom! What a great idea.  You ser are a genius!”

The Ferelden just chuckled, his hand falling away from his piece a second too soon as Bull lunged suddenly, his head smashing into the man’s ribs so hard he heard two crack.  The pair of them ended up on the floor, Bull’s fist smashing into the Ferelden’s jaw twice before the man’s eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he fell limp.  “Shit’s gone sideways, K.  Get Grim up to the north hallway, I’ve got a target down and I’m off to find Pavus.”

“Be careful, Chief.”

“Shit, K.  You know that’s my middle name,” Bull chuckled before pulling his own pistol out of his holster, flicking off the safety and flattening his body against the wall before awkwardly reaching for the doorknob and slowly turning it.  When it moved easy he gave the door a little shove and held his breath, not certain exactly what it was he was walking into.

Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Giving it a five count Bull peeked his head around the door and quickly pulled it back, his initial survey seeing nothing beyond a couple of chairs gathered before a cold fireplace.  Another quick glance, still nothing, then with a deep breathe he slipped into the room and found that it truly was empty. 

Damn, he’d been so certain that the thug he’d laid out flat had been one of the ones who had taken Dorian.   _ What if he hadn’t been taken though?  What if he’d gone willingly? _  Bull growled at the path his own mind took.  Oh, he knew that Dorian had all but admitted being in league with the Venatori, but that didn’t mean that he was a willing participate. 

Beginning to take a closer look at the room, Bull was just reaching to move one of the closed curtains when he heard the sound of a fist hitting flesh and a tersely growled, “Your humor is not appreciated Ser Pavus.  I’ll ask you once more, where has your mentor relocated his lab to?”

Cautiously moving the curtain Bull found that rather than a window being behind it there was another door, this one cracked just the smallest bit.  Reaching out one finger to widen the gap, Bull winced as he heard Dorian reply, “And I told you that Alexius hasn’t yet told me where the new lab will be.  Something about it being my fault that the last one was leveled.”

Another hard crack of fist to flesh had Bull’s fingers curling on the wall hard enough to peel paint.

“Do you take me for a fool Pavus?  Alexius is hardly the sort of man who would have retained your services if you were truly inept.”

“Yes, well, there are more ways to be of service than just in the lab,” Dorian taunted, pulling a low growl from Bull’s throat that surprised even the spy.

Immediately all sound in the room stopped.  Shit.  What the fuck was that about anyway?  What business was it of his who Dorian Pavus was fucking?

“Bull if that’s you they’re about to the…” Dorian’s shout was cut off midstream but was enough to have Bull dropping the curtain.  Looking around the room he found nowhere that would hide a human, let alone someone of his stature.  Fine, looked like they’d be doing this the hard way.  Moving to the far side of the curtain, Bull wrapped his free hand in material and gave a silent five count before yanking on it as hard as possible, tearing it from the rod and exposing the second thug who had just been coming through the door. 

Bull had no qualms about shooting the man as he stood frozen in the doorway, stepping over him quickly as he rushed the room to find the third thug using Dorian as a shield.

“Drop it,” the thug bit out, the muzzle of his gun pressing into Dorian’s temple, a rapidly darkening bruise standing out in sharp contrast to Dorian’s gorgeous copper skin.

“Don’t you dare,” Dorian growled, scowling at Bull as though his own life wasn’t in danger.

“Shut up,” the thug hissed, shaking Dorian.

Bull calculated the odds of him being able to take the shot without getting Dorian killed in the process and decided they were somewhere in the realm of horrible.  Slipping his own finger off the trigger, he raised his hands in surrender.

“Fasta vass,” Dorian muttered with a glare, the thug shifting his hold on Dorian to wrap one arm around his throat.

“I told you to shut up,” the thug grumbled before motioning at Bull with his gun.  “Put it down and…”

The thug broke off with an anguished scream, throwing his weapon down where it immediately began to burn the carpet.  At the same time Dorian jabbed his elbow back, breaking the hold the thug had on him and Bull quickly righted his pistol and put two shots through the thug’s skull.

“What in Andraste’s sweet ass were you thinking?” Dorian growled, stalking towards Bull even as the spy slid his weapon back in the holster.  “I told you not to drop it.”

“Technically I didn’t drop it,” Bull shrugged, only to have Dorian’s fingers poke him in the chest.

“Yes, but you were going to.  If that idiot had had more than one functioning brain cell we’d both have been captive.”

“But we’re not.”

“Because he was foolish enough to think without my staff I couldn’t cast,” Dorian snarled, throwing a disgusted look over his shoulder at the rapidly cooling corpse before stabbing Bull in the chest with his fingers again.  “And what was your excuse?  Huh?”

Bull shrugged again.  “He would have killed you, couldn’t take the shot.”

Dorian’s eyes flared wide before narrowing. “Hum, you really go all in for target acquisition don’t you?  I suppose I should be grateful.”

Bull growled, grabbing at the fingers that were still laying on his chest and tugging Dorian against him.  “What you should be is quiet.”

Dorian tipped his head up but before he could get a word out Bull bent to press a hard kiss to his lips.  Followed by another, and then when the mage went pliant in his arms, those nimble fingers coming up to tickle at the back of his neck, a little nip had Dorian parting his lips and letting Bull in.

When the need for air finally forced them apart, Bull whispered against Dorian’s ear, “I saved you because the world would be a darker place without you.”

Dorian’s sigh was hot on Bull’s cheek.

Pulling back far enough that he could take in Dorian’s kiss swollen lips and the way his eyes were dark with want, Bull chuckled softly.  “Hum, who’d have thought a kiss was all it would take to shut you up.”

“You’re horrible.”

“Does that mean I don’t get to take you home tonight?”

“Oh, I didn’t say I hated horrible…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only regret with this fic is that I didn't have a chance to introduce Dagna as Q...because you know she totally would be :)


	19. No, YOU love the warrior...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric and Dorian bantering like "You love the warrior." "No, you love the warrior." until one day, Dorian slams the door of Herald's Rest open and yells: "Okay, so I love the warrior, your turn!"

It was Dorian’s first mission with the Inquisitor since the nastiness that was Haven falling and of course it had to be to the Storm Coast.  Sighing as his staff stuck in the mud for the tenth time since leaving camp, Dorian paused and put all his strength into tugging it from the wet ground.

“Better hike up your skirt, mage boy,” Bull chuckled as he came to a stop directly behind Dorian.

Scowling back at Bull, Dorian hissed, “I’m not _wearing_ a skirt.”

“You trip on that bustling whatever, don’t come crying to me.”

Dorian growled, slinging his staff and storming up the trail.  As he passed Varric he could have sworn he heard the rogue mutter in a singsong voice, “You love the warrior.”

 

 

They were in the Hinterlands on their way to explore some grand villa that Evie hoped held some more of the mysterious shards she was always scurrying off to collect on their journeys.  That Dorian was finding the trip a tad on the boring side absolutely did _not_ have anything to do with the fact that The Iron Bull had been called away with the Chargers and so Cassandra had joined them instead.

It would seem, however, that Cassandra _was_ the reason that they were in their current predicament, trapped in the closest Inquisition base to the villa by none other than bears.  Oh, not just one or two of the huge creatures, no it would seem that the Seeker had managed to attract every blasted bear from here to the Frostbacks.

Perhaps almost as distressing was the fact that Cassandra was doing her own bit of pacing within camp, grumbling at anyone who came near her.  “I still say we should just take them out.”

“That’s because you apparently don’t value that head of yours still attached to your neck,” Varric drawled from where he sat near the fire, Bianca resting in his lap as he oiled her gears.

“So we just what?  Sit here until we starve?  Bah, I’m done waiting,” the Seeker growled, freeing her sword from its sheath and striding towards the gathered wildlife with fire in her eyes.

“Damn it Cassandra,” Dorian heard Varric mutter under his breath, the rogue hurrying to fall into step beside her, a bolt already notched and ready.

It was then…as Evie slapped Dorian on the shoulder and they hurried after their companions that Dorian realized a very important truth, one he took great pleasure in taunting Varric with once they had managed to clear out every bear within five miles.  “You’re in love with the warrior.”

 

 

The Fallow Mire was a miserable place no matter what the day, but had proved doubly so today as the dark, wet clouds that hung overhead had seen fit to drizzle on them all day.  Dorian supposed he should be pleased that it wasn’t hail, but even thinking it was just too much of an invitation to the Maker today.  Sighing heavily as he stepped forward onto what looked like a firm piece of land only to sink to his shin in muck, Dorian was surprised to find himself propelled forward by a large, silver hand on his elbow.  “Careful ‘Vint, don’t wanna have to go in after you,” Bull volunteered as he continued past a startled Dorian.

“You love the warrior,” Varric crowed as he caught up with the still-stunned mage.

“Less talking more walking,” Cassandra growled as she shoved past the pair of them, her eyes never leaving the broken trail under her feet.

Dorian watched Varric watching her and smirked, “No, _you_ love the warrior.”

Varric’s impersonation of a gasping fish went a long way to brightening Dorian’s mood.

 

 

Emprise du Lion.  As close a bit of Maker forsaken land as any Dorian had ever seen.  If it wasn’t the cold and the snow then it was spires of red lyrium jutting from the ground as though planted there by a vengeful spirit.  The moment they had made camp Dorian had used his magic to get as large a fire as he dared roaring.  It did little to banish the cold but at least the crackling of the wood seemed to drown out some of the lyrium’s song.  Something Varric seemed to appreciate too as he quickly found his way to Dorian’s side, the pair of them sitting there quietly trying to pretend they were anywhere but here.

Dorian had only shivered twice when the blanket, thick wool and smelling of The Iron Bull fell across his shoulders.  “Can’t have you freezing to death on us,” Bull chuckled before heading back to finish setting up one of the tents.

Varric’s shoulder nudged Dorian’s side and he knew what was coming even before the rogue piped up, “You love the warrior.”

“Who loves what?” Cassandra’s voice chimed in from behind them, startling both men who looked at each other guiltily.

“Nothing, nothing Seeker…just a uhm, bet I have with Sparkler here.”

“Yes, well, one should not bet on love,” Cassandra tsked before walking away shaking her head.

“Absolutely right, Seeker…that would be bad, absolutely not what we were doing,” Varric babbled to her retreating form before falling silent with a little sigh.

Dorian’s response was almost too soft to be heard past the crackling fire.  “No, _you_ love the warrior.”

 

 

Adamant was horrible but falling into the fade was just…well shit, the closest Dorian could come was torture.  And if it was that bad for him and he was accustomed to entering the fade while sleeping, he could only imagine how it must be grating on Varric’s nerves.  Could tell from the slight tremor in the rogue’s voice when he questioned how the fuck they were going to get out of here and from the way Varric clutched Bianca tightly, like she was his lifeline to normalcy.

So Dorian did the only thing he could think of to do and sauntered up close to the rogue before whispering, “You love the warrior.”

Varric’s spine stiffened, and for a moment Dorian feared he’d said the wrong thing, but then a brief smile twitched at the rogue’s lips as he responded, “No, _you_ love the warrior.”

 

It became even more of a thing between the two of them when they returned from the fade.  A way for both men to say ‘I’m here, I’ve got your back and I know you’ without having to actually say the words.

Fighting pride demons in the Western Approach.  “You love the warrior.”

Battling giants in the Emerald Graves.  “No, _you_ love the warrior.”

Venatori in the Hissing Wastes.  “You love the warrior.”

High dragon in the Exalted Plains.  “No, _you_ love the warrior.”

 

Their little tradition might have continued indefinitely if Dorian hadn’t done something entirely unexpected and actually fallen in love with Bull.  The real kind of love that had him actually spending the night and searching the library for recipes for horn balm of all things.  The kind of love that had him pacing the floor when Bull went out on a mission with Evie and he got left behind, and the kind that had him staying up all night hoping to be able to bribe Leliana for an update.

The kind of love that had him flying down the stairs the moment he saw Evie’s group riding through the gates and the kind that meant he didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t want to kiss Bull senseless when he saw those familiar horns still intact upon that beloved head.

So when he and Bull stumbled through the door to the tavern only a few minutes later, hands so full of each other that the door smacked Bull on the ass as it closed behind them, Dorian took one look at Varric’s smirk and beat the rogue to the punch.  “Yeah, I love the warrior…now it’s your turn.”


	20. The Menagerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quizzy and a guest: "The Inquisition is not weird!" "There's a qunari sitting under a tree reading a romance book with a tevinter mage lying next to him with a head on his lap, I don't mind, but how is that not weird?" "You assholes, I am trying to make a point here, stop being all domestic!"

“I truly am sorry about the crumbs, Messere,” Evelyn whispered as she brushed the remains of the cookies Sera had thrown down at them from the roof of the Herald’s Rest off of Messere Laurent’s cape.  Thankfully Evelyn had seen the incoming desserts and managed to get her bow up in time to stop them from impacting the Messere directly or she feared she might now be continuing the tour from the healing tent.

“Ah, it is no problem.  Really.  I understand that these things happen.  And please, you must call me Phillipe,” Messere Laurent entreated, his hands stilling hers.

The temptation was great to ask Messere…uhm, Phillipe, where exactly these things happen regularly, but she managed to bite her tongue and focus on tugging her hand free of his rather sweaty grasp.  “Still, I appreciate your forbearance, Phillipe.  I’m afraid Sera can come across rather…enthusiastic.”

“Yes, yes, that is certainly one word for it.”

“Perhaps you might prefer to visit the library,” Evie offered, holding her hand out to indicate the direction and falling into step next to him as they headed up the stairs.  “Our archivist has been very successful in collecting volumes from many of the former Circles as well as some more obscure Tevinter texts.”

“Ah, I should indeed like seeing those.  You know my father was quite the collector before his untimely death.  It has been said that our collection rivals that of the Ostwick circle.  Or did until it fell.  I don’t suppose you have had word of where their collection ended up.”

Evelyn was tempted to admit that the majority of the collection now resided in the west wing of the Trevelyan estate but she knew that father would be likely to throw something far worse than just cookies at the man standing beside her.  Oh, mother would stop him of course, but father never had had any patience with Nobles who insisted on the capital ‘N’ like Phillipe here.

Stepping into the main keep, Evie let her eyes adjust to the decreased light as she hedged, “No, I’m sorry, Phillipe, I’m afraid the collection has been misplaced.”

Evelyn could have sworn she caught the beginnings of a smirk cross the noble’s lips before he managed to still them and was further tempted to recant her small lie.  However before she could open her mouth her eyes began to focus just in time for her to see Varric, standing by the table he had commandeered as his own.  Or rather…he was standing on one side only to jump rapidly to the other side, mutter something to himself then return quickly to the original side and mutter something else, pausing every so often to jot something down on the parchment before him.

“Inquisitor?” Phillipe’s query held a wealth of questions in one word as the man watched Varric’s odd display.

“Varric?”  Evie passed the questions on.

The man in question stilled with a little hop, his cheeks darkening as he graced the pair before him with an embarrassed grin.  “Your Inquisitorialness.”

“Everything ok?”

“What?  Oh, yes, just working on the next chapter of my newest novel,” Varric shrugged.  “It helps to get into character sometimes.”

Evie chuckled and shook her head slightly.  “I’ll take your word for it.  Messere Laurent and I were just headed up to the archives.  Phillipe, may I introduce Messere Varric Tethras.  Varric, Messere Phillipe Laurent.”

A round of ‘pleased to meet you’ later and Evelyn was ushering Phillipe through the door into Solas’s domain.  Pleased to find the mage was not currently in residence as they skipped through and headed up the stairs, Phillipe’s cultured voice echoing against the stone.  “Messere Tethras is quite a character.”

“Varric is a valued member of the Inquisition in addition to being a published author.”

“Oh yes, I believe his book about the Champion of Kirkwall was very popular among the masses.”

Smothering a sigh behind a little cough, Evie settled for nodding her head as she wondered just how many copies the man personally owned.  Masses, indeed.

“It would seem that your Inquisition is full of colorful characters, Inquisitor,” Phillipe drawled, the statement obviously a slur posed as a compliment.

If she didn’t know that Josie would kill her for insulting yet another noble, Evie would tell him just how much she valued that very fact about her Inner Circle.  How after years of dealing with nobles who were interchangeable with the exception of name, she found her friends now to be refreshing and unique and wouldn’t trade any of them for a dozen Phillipe Laurents.  Evelyn didn’t bother to hide the note of pride in her voice when she finally answered.  “Yes, yes it is.”

Evelyn’s shoulders slumped slightly as they reached the top of the staircase and she found Dorian’s chair to be empty.  Damn it, she had counted on Dorian’s easy flirtations to sooth her irritation at the man standing beside her.  Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so quick to block Sera’s cookie barrage earlier…

“No, no, come back…Mooshmallow…no…Cuddlewumpus…”  Leliana’s concerned cries were followed by what sounded like a herd of druffalo coming down the stairs from the spymaster’s tower.

Evie found herself peering around the corner cautiously, ignoring Phillipe’s muttered, “Mooshmallow?  Cuddlewhumpus?”

“Come on Sprinkles…come to mama…”

Evelyn bit back a laugh as a pair of nugs shot off the stairs and began to race around the rotunda, a loud squeal from above proving that Leliana had caught at least one of her precious pets.  Acting quickly as the nugs came into view at the backside of the library, Evie grabbed at Phillipe’s cape, snapping the clasp open before throwing the expensive black wool at the two racing pets, dropping to her knees to keep them from squirming out from under the impromptu net.  “Phillipe, if you would…”

“My cape,” the nobleman cried, watching as it squirmed on the floor.

“They’ll get free,” Evelyn cried, stretching her arm as far out as it would go but still only able to cover two thirds of the garment. 

“But my cape,” Phillipe muttered again, his feet finally moving to block off the nug’s remaining option for escape.  He had barely hit the ground when Leliana came tearing around the corner from the stairs, tendrils of her normally immaculately styled hair flying around her face and panic written on every feature.

The spymaster stumbled to a stop at the pair of them guarding a cape on the floor, then the unmistakable sound of a frightened nug rose from between them and Leliana sighed in relief.  “My babies…”

“It would seem they were making a break for it,” Evelyn chuckled, reaching her hand beneath the cape and pulling out the first nug. 

“Mooshmallow, you bad boy,” Leliana muttered under her breathe to the nug as soon as she had it in her hands, nuzzling her face against its for a moment before taking possession of the second nug.  “Whump muffin, you little troublemaker…”

Evelyn bit back her chuckle as she watched Phillipe stare with fascinated horror as the Spymaster turned and headed back upstairs without a word.  Standing, Evelyn pulled up Phillipe’s cape and checked it over for any damage, there was none, before holding it out to the still kneeling noble.  “As good as new, Messere.”

“What?”

“Your cape, Messere, it is as good as new,” Evelyn repeated, shoving the cape at him until Phillipe’s only choice was to take possession of it or end up with it on his head.

“I take it back,” the man said hesitantly as he stood and shook out the cape, folding it over his arm rather than putting it back on.

“Take what back, Messere?”

“Your Inquisition…I am afraid colorful is not a strong enough word for this…this…menagerie.”

Evie cringed slightly, the vision of Josie’s red face as she questioned how Evie could have possibly let another potential financier slip through her fingers.  No, no, she could save this…

Slipping her arm through Phillipe’s she gestured across the library toward the far door.  She knew Vivienne was not in Skyhold at the moment so it should be a simple matter for them to cross through into the Chantry garden.  Surely, even Phillipe would find comfort in the quiet space.  “I apologize for Messere Pavus not being available to show you the collection,” Evie whispered quietly, letting her head brush against Phillipe’s shoulder before reaching for the door out of the library.

The nobleman didn’t say anything as they crossed Vivienne’s space, though he did arch a brow curiously toward her divan and assembled books.  Reaching for the second door, Evelyn admitted, “The garden is one of my favorite areas of Skyhold, I do hope that you enjoy it.”

Phillipe drew in a deep breath.  “Well, compared to the other oddities I have seen today I have hopes for its normalcy.”

“Really, Messere, are we truly all that odd?” Evelyn asked, her voice honey poured over iron.

“You must admit that your Inquisition borders on weird,” Phillipe drawled as they took the steps down to the garden.

Finally reaching her breaking point, Evie turned as they hit the bottom of the stairs and hissed, “The Inquisition is not  _ weird _ .”

Phillipe froze beside her and for a moment Evie worried she had gone beyond simply insulting the man, but then she turned, her eyes taking in the scene before them.  The scene where Bull was leaning up against a tree, a crown of flowers looped lazily around one horn and Dorian sprawled between his legs…head resting against Bull’s chest as he read aloud from what looked like Cassandra’s advanced copy of Swords and Shields.  As if that wasn’t bad enough…

“Is that Qunari actually peeling a grape?” Phillipe managed to stutter out, his eyes still wide with shock.

Sighing heavily, Evelyn saw no point in agreeing that that was exactly what was going on, especially when Bull popped the now peeled fruit into Dorian’s waiting mouth.  Looking from her shocked noble back to the pair lounging before her, Evelyn was forced to admit that perhaps the Inquisition was just a  _ tad _ weird.  Still, it wouldn’t do for her own inner circle to be reinforcing that belief.

Stomping over to stand before the pair, she braced her hands on her hips and scowled down at them, kicking Bull’s foot.  “What are you doing?”

“Boss?”  “Evie?”

“I’m trying to make a point here and you assholes are ruining it with all your…your,” Evie waved her arms to encompass the whole scene before sighing, “…domesticity.”

Bull didn’t even bother to try to hide his laugh and Dorian dared to smirk at her.  “We’re so sorry, Evie…how dare we ruin the Inquisition’s good name with such deviant behavior.”

“Exactly,” Evie huffed with a sharp nod of her head.  “Just…just don’t do it again.”

“Wouldn’t think of it, Boss.”

Evie turned with a final nod of her head and grabbed for Phillipe’s hand even though he was now looking at her as though she was as crazy as the rest of them.  She supposed it shouldn’t have surprised her when he stepped back out of reach.  “Messere?”

“No, no, Inquisitor.  I think I shall just make my way back to Messere Montilyet.  I believe it is time for me to return home.”

“Phillipe?”

Watching as the nobleman turned and all but ran from the courtyard, Evie resigned herself to another lecture from Josie.  


	21. Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DoriBull prompt! (I'd love to see your take on this trope but don't worry if it's not up your alley, I know it's not everybody's cup of tea.) One of them is in a relationship with someone else but breaks it off because he starts developing feelings for the other.
> 
>  
> 
> NOTE: As you can probably gather from the prompt, this is more a pre-Adoribull piece but still relevant to our guys so I'm posting it here...

Bull wasn’t certain how it happened for other people.  Shit, he wasn’t even certain it was happening for _him_ , but the first time he had a feeling it might be they were all sitting in the tavern after wrapping up a mission to the Fallow Mire.  He was sitting in his normal spot at the head of the table, the Boss sitting to his right, his foot trailing up Bull’s leg while Krem told the story about that contract in the Anderfels that ended up with Bull in a dress and all Bull could see was Dorian sitting at the other end of the table.

Dorian who was currently possessed of an armful of Sera and was trying to convince the archer to get off his lap, a message which was rather less than effective because of the warm smile that was curling the mage’s lips, a smile Bull suddenly wished was being leveled his way.  And wasn’t that something?  Because Bull could count the number of things he’d actually dared to wish for in his life on one hand and still have some stunted fingers left over.

Then, before he could think too much on it, certainly before he could even acknowledge that what he had with the man sitting next to him _wasn’t_ something that took up one of those fingers, the Boss’s toes tucked under Bull’s thighs and nudged at his cock.  With a little grin Bull turned toward the Boss, his mind shifting to more immediate pleasures.  “Find something you like, Boss?”

“Perhaps.  It certainly calls for a closer look,” Luke grinned with another nudge of his foot.

“That so?”  Bull’s laughter echoed through the bar as he stood suddenly, swinging the smaller man up and over his shoulder as he went.

“ _Bull!_ ” Luke shrieked, but Bull felt the man’s cock harden against his shoulder and knew his complaint for the token resistance it was.  Smacking Luke’s ass firmly as he headed toward the door that would take them to the main keep and the Inquisitor’s rather spacious room, Bull missed the flash of envy that lit up Dorian’s eyes for a moment.

 

 

Bull was still trying to figure out what that first needy glance meant when it happened again.  This time they were sitting around a campfire and Varric had put together what was a truly horrible rabbit stew, one that was so bland they might as well have just scooped up the sand they were sitting on and start chewing on it.  Luckily, Bull carried a small bottle of pepper sauce for just these occasions, something that had started when he’d been sent south and that had carried on once the Chargers got a taste for the stuff.  The original bottle he’d brought from Par Vollen was long gone, but it turned out that Grim had a pretty good hand at creating a passable substitute from some peppers that occasionally got brought in from Antiva.

Watching as Dorian picked listlessly at his meal Bull whistled and the ‘Vint’s head popped up with an irritated scowl.  “Might try some of this,” Bull offered, tossing the bottle across the fire only to realize mid-throw that if Dorian missed he would be stuck with tasteless food for the rest of the trip.

“Shit Dorian, that stuff will kill you,” Luke grumbled as he watched the bottle soar through the air, only increasing Bull’s concern.

Thankfully, the mage turned out to be a good catch and more adventurous than the Boss, because after cautiously removing the lid and smelling the contents, Dorian dumped a healthy bit of it into his stew before capping the bottle and setting it down beside him.

The smile that Dorian leveled at him after the first bite warmed Bull for days.

 

 

About the time Bull thought he might be figuring out what that warm feeling in his gut was that happened every time Dorian smiled at him, everything was turned upside down.

They had been on a routine patrol in the Western Approach when a quick side trip down a canyon had led to not only a squad of Venatori but also a set of fucking crazy ruins practically humming with time magic.  Even Dorian had urged caution, Bull and Varric all but setting their feet and refusing to step beyond the entrance, but Luke had no such restraint.  Of all the man’s traits, his innate curiosity was the one that bothered Bull the most and by the time they had worked their way through the clusters of demons and Tevinter mages paused for Koslun knew how long mid-fight, Luke just scoffed at Dorian’s muttered warning before grasping the staff that was levitating on the dais in the middle of what had been a securely locked room.

A wave of something washed over Bull and the entire courtyard behind them erupted into sound, Dorian’s low growl of frustration almost swallowed by the battle now raging again as the mage slipped past him, readying his staff.  The fight that followed was long, doubly so as they found themselves fighting both factions of the previously frozen combatants and Bull didn’t bother to hold back his sigh of relief when the door they’d entered this madhouse through finally came into view.

He was already calculating just how many enemies were still breathing when it happened.  In the space of a breath one of the greater terrors disappeared just as Bull’s axe cleaved through the space it had occupied and reappeared behind Dorian, its claws skipping through the mage’s robes as if they weren’t there, blood washing over the terror’s form as Dorian’s eyes widened in shock, his knees crumpling.

“Nooooo,” Bull cried, Luke at his side as they fought through the remaining enemies to reach Dorian, Varric already kneeling beside the wounded mage.

“Dorian,” Luke cried, hitting his knees on the other side, his hand slipping out to cup Dorian’s cheek, and Bull felt a sudden pull in the pit of his stomach, another wish to add to his tiny list, this one that he was the one with the right to be touching the mage, to be checking for a pulse, to shelter him from further injury.

“How is he, Boss?” Bull asked instead, pleased when his words came out even.

“Breathing, but fuck, it’s not good,” Luke muttered, dumping a healing potion down Dorian’s throat before turning to look up at Bull.  “Can you carry him?”

 _Forever_.  Bull bit back the comment and settled for a quick nod before bending and scooping up the surprisingly light mage into his arms.  Bull’s heart clenched when Dorian moaned in pain as Bull’s arm rested against one of his wounds and Bull was quick to shift the mage until he could carry him without encountering any of his injuries.

Without a doubt their trip back to forward camp, a trip interrupted only to dump several more healing potions down Dorian’s throat while Bull held tight to his precious cargo, was the longest of Bull’s life.  By the time they arrived at the healer’s tent Bull had accepted that he had gone and done a stupid thing.  Perhaps the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life.  

He’d developed feelings for Dorian Pavus…

 

And _that_ was how he found himself pacing out in front of Luke’s tent when he really wanted to be sitting inside a different tent, waiting for Dorian to wake up.  But even if he was a novice at relationships, Bull wasn’t enough of an ass that he thought it would be ok to even consider starting a new one without ending the one he was in.  Of course, before today he wouldn’t have thought himself the kind of ass that would need to be considering this sort of a conversation.  After all, it wasn’t like there was anything wrong with Luke.  The Boss was funny, caring, strong, intriguing and faithful…he just wasn’t Dorian.

“Fuck,” Bull muttered to himself as he ran his hand down the length of one horn, tugging slightly at the curve as though that could make him think of any better way to tell Luke that what they had shared was over.

“You gonna come in or stand out there sighing all night?”

Bull’s head snapped up so quickly his neck cracked but instead of seeing the Boss’s face he found himself facing the still closed tent flaps.  The thought of walking away flitted through Bull’s mind but was quickly banished.  There was no sense in postponing the inevitable, he told himself as he opened the flap and stepped inside to find Luke staring up at him from his small travel desk, papers strewn across the top.  “Evening, Boss.”

The smile Luke gave him in return was small and bordered on sad.  “Good evening, Bull.  Finally figured it out, did ya?”

Bull scowled, for once having absolutely no clue what the other man meant.  “Figured what out?”

“That you and Dorian fit better than you and I ever could,” Luke admitted, only the white-tipped pressure of his fingers against the chair he was sitting in, giving Bull any clue the man’s words were painful to him.

Bull was too honest to deny the words, but not quite crass enough to agree.  “I wouldn’t say that exactly, Boss.”

Luke scoffed, not even bothering with a token smile this time.  “It’s fine, Bull.  These things happen.  I’m just not usually sitting right there to have to watch it when it does.”

“I’m sorry, Boss,” Bull whispered, finding the words to be true.  Much as he might want Dorian, much as this was the right thing to do, he _was_ sorry.  Sorry for hurting someone who didn’t deserve it, sorry for not being able to feel whatever this was for the man sitting before him, sorry for being so inept at relationships he didn’t recognize what it was sooner, though he wasn’t certain that last one would actually have negated any of the pain.

“I know, Bull,” Luke whispered as he stood and crossed the space to where Bull had paused just inside the door.  Leaning up, Luke rested one hand against Bull’s cheek and pressed his lips to the opposite cheek.  “You should probably go, he shouldn’t be alone when he wakes up.”

“But Boss…”

Dropping back down onto his heels, Luke shook his head and patted Bull’s chest.  “No, there really isn’t anything more to say, Bull.  Just remember, Dorian is stubborn…you’re gonna have your work cut out for you.”

Bull felt a twinge of guilt at the shiver of anticipation that coursed up his spine.  Because of course Dorian would be difficult, Bull wouldn’t have him any other way.

Uncertain if it was the right thing to do, Bull reached out and pulled Luke closer anyway, placing a kiss on the top of the man’s head and pausing just long enough to draw in his unique woodsy scent one more time.  “I’ll always have your back, Boss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke scoffed, shoving Bull towards the door.  “Off with you, I’ve got paperwork to finish.”

Bull pretended not to see the sheen of tears in Luke’s eyes as the man turned from him, both for the Boss’s sake and his own.  Tears weren’t things Bull was used to dealing with, though he had a feeling if he could look at his own face right about now, his own eye would look glassy.  Sniffling as he stepped back out into the warm evening air, Bull turned his eyes up to the stars shining above them and drew a deep breath before heading towards the healer’s tent.  He had a mage to convince...


	22. Out of the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Prompt: Character A finds Character B's diary/record book where they talk about the members of inner circle of the inquisition, from the moment they joined up until the present.
> 
> Note: Just a fair warning that this one get a little dark before the dawn. I deviated from the prompt a bit because in my mind neither of these men would betray the other by actually reading their personal journal without permission...

Dorian scowled slightly as he shifted his robes in the one drawer he’d claimed in Bull’s dresser.  It wasn’t so much the lack of drawer space that was bothering him as the small black leather notebook he found tucked into the corner, a wide piece of dark brown leather wrapped around the outside to keep the pages shut.  Reaching for the scarred leather Dorian ran his thumb across the cover absently as he turned to Bull.  “Amatus?”

“Oh shit,” Bull muttered, reaching for the book with a chagrined look.

“Dare I ask?”  Dorian chuckled, letting the book go freely but arching one brow at his love.

“Just notes,” Bull muttered, quickly tucking the book into the bag that was never far from him.  The bag that Dorian knew contained everything Bull had ever deemed important when communicating to his superiors in Par Vollen. 

Dorian often wondered just what that bag contained now that Bull was Tal-Vashoth, but he had a feeling just asking the question would put that lost look on Bull’s face that Dorian was willing to do almost anything to avoid and so he let the subject drop and turned back to his laundry.  He was just closing the drawer after having managed to find room for everything when Bull spoke again.  “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you.”

Spinning around, Dorian leaned against the dresser before asking, “Did I miss the point in our being together where you suddenly started owing me access to all your thoughts?”

Bull laughed as he stood and closed the distance between them.  “Don’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

Dorian rolled his eyes as he let Bull pull him into his arms.  “You make it sound like I’m skulking in corners and eavesdropping.”

Bull tipped his head up, grinning down at Dorian before pressing a kiss to his lips.  “I’d notice you even behind a potted plant.”

“Well of course you would,” Dorian chuffed.  “I am infinitely noticeable.”

“That you are,” Bull grinned, slinging his arm over Dorian’s shoulders and tugging him toward the chairs that sat in front of the fireplace.  “Does that mean that you don’t want to know what’s in my little black book then?”

“That sound rather ominous for a book the size of my palm.”

Bull laughed again, nudging Dorian into his usual chair before reaching for the nearly full bottle of Antivan brandy that was sitting on the mantle and pulling the cork.  Dorian couldn’t help but think it was going to be one of  _ those _ nights, the ones where Bull’s secrets flowed as freely as the booze and Dorian would be left feeling like he was both the most privileged person in Skyhold, as well as the most burdened…well, except for the man sitting before him.  The man who was currently drinking very expensive brandy directly from the bottle and Dorian could do nothing but shake his head fondly and wait for Bull to decide where to begin.

It wasn’t until Bull had passed the brandy over to him, and yes, he had also drank directly from the bottle (may his ancestors turn over in their graves) that Bull began to speak.  “Want to know what the first entry in my book is?”

Dorian just tilted his head and took another drink before passing the bottle back to Bull.  He was unsurprised when Bull took a healthy pull before continuing.  “It’s notes on my first meeting with the Boss.  The way she was careful to keep exactly five feet between us at all times that first day, like five feet would have meant anything if I’d wanted to do her harm.  It also talks about the way she’d turned away from me when Varric tripped over a rock and went headfirst into the surf, about the way her concern for her people could be a liability if we ever needed to exploit it.  Also, she’s shit from the left side.  Too damn used to Varric or Sera being there to cover her ass…if I needed to take her down quick it would always be from that side.  Throwing axe to her drawing arm would do it, then a blade to the throat, she’s not big enough to keep me off of her…”

Before Dorian could think of anything to say Bull was thrusting the bottle in his direction, forcing Dorian to grab for the bottle or have it shatter at their feet, Bull’s attention already turned back to the flames leaping in the fireplace.

“Second page is for Cass.  She was harder to read than the Boss.  A warrior through and through, but it didn’t take long to realize that she doubts herself.  She’s the sort you couldn’t take head on, she’d keep coming at you until you were both too exhausted to finish it.  Nope, with Cass you need to be her friend, keep it light and fun until the moment when something happens and she doubts herself.  Wouldn’t take much, poison the Boss or miss a block and take a small blow myself…then when she’s all wrapped up in her own head you slip in with a dagger to the ribs.”

“Bull,” Dorian whispered, not certain if he meant to explain that Bull didn’t owe him these explanations or beg for him to stop torturing him with them.

“Varric is on the third page.  He had the potential to be useful long-term, both his house and Carta connections making it better to turn him than kill him.  Unfortunately I was forced to rethink his usefulness after Haven fell and it became apparent that his attraction for the Seeker was had made him far more loyal to the Inquisition than he had originally been.  It should come as little surprise that Bianca was listed as one of his strengths and weaknesses.  It took months before Varric would even think about letting me take a look at his precious crossbow, but now I’m pretty sure I know which gear to focus on damaging to take Bianca out of the equation.  Without her, even his heavy dwarven bones would have snapped beneath my axe.”

Bull fell silent at this point, his eyes remaining pointedly on the flames in the fireplace even as he held his hand out for the bottle which was now nearing empty.  Dorian wanted desperately to end Bull’s monologue but he had a feeling the warrior needed to say these things, needed to admit the information he had accumulated on people he now called friend. Precise, plotted murder masquerading under the guise of duty.

Dorian noted that Bull’s hand shook slightly as he gulped down more of the brandy as though it were water. “You might have guessed that Blackwall was the fourth entry since he was the last one member of the Boss’s party the day they came to recruit me.  Let’s see, Warden Blackwall…a liar.  Wasn’t sure why at the time but a liar always knows another liar and that man had more secrets than I did.  Got a couple guesses scratched out in the book because of that.  Wasn’t sure at first if his preaching at the altar of the Grey Wardens was because he secretly hated all of them and was ready to snap or if he actually believed all that shit.  Nothing worse than a man who actually believes all the crap he spews.  Gotta admit, even I hadn’t guessed that he’d killed a man and stolen the uniform…”  Bull broke off with a brittle laugh and a shake of his head, taking another gulp of brandy before continuing, “Funny thing is, if I’d known about Thom Rainier from the beginning I might have tried to blackmail him, if push had come to shove.  After all, a desperate man will do desperate things and I could have used someone at my back right up until I’d have been forced to poison his drink.”

If Dorian hadn’t been watching Bull so closely he might have missed the tightening of his lover’s jaw and the way he turned his head minutely so he could look at Dorian for a moment before turning his attention back to the fire.  “Madame Vivienne is entry number six.  My first meeting with her showed that she well deserved the nickname Madame De Fer.  Equal parts iron and sheer…”

“Bull…”

“…bravado, she speaks with such certainty that only a fool or someone very sure of…”

“Bull…” Dorian started again, this time reaching out to lay his hand on Bull’s arm only to have his lover flinch away.

Dorian could read Bull’s scowl even from the slight view of his face that he had and he had to swallow over a sudden knot in his throat to continue.  “Bull, what about page five?”

“What?”

“Page five, you skipped over page five.”

“There is no page five.”

Dorian frowned.  He knew his lover far too well to believe that ill-conceived lie and suddenly awareness shot through Dorian’s body like a bolt of lightning.  “It’s me isn’t it?  Page five is about me.”

“Dorian…”  It was Bull’s turn to plead, the one word whispered on a prayer as the warrior finally turned to face him, his expression anguished.

Dorian bit his lip to stop himself from pleading that Bull deny it, the heavy metal taste of blood filling his mouth as he ravaged his skin rather than force himself to hear the lie he was sure Bull would give him if he but asked.  Licking over the wounded lip, Dorian forced words he didn’t want to speak to fall.  “Page five, Bull.”

Bull settled back into his chair as though the scant bit of fabric could hide his enormous frame, the words when they came were curiously free of any emotion though Dorian read plenty of them in his eye.  “Page five is Dorian Pavus.  Vint.  Most obvious choice should a scapegoat be needed.  Impressive mage abilities but tends towards flamboyance rather than adhering to a strict battlemage style.  His immediate attachment to the Inquisitor suggests an innate need for companionship that is potentially exploitable.  Sent request to superiors for additional information concerning House Pavus…”

“Kaffas,” Dorian whispered, ice freezing his veins even as Bull’s stricken gaze landed on him.

“Should the need arise to remove Pavus from battle, it is preferable to wait until he has depleted his mana.  Continually moving during fight should force him to apply a barrier more frequently.  Minor healing abilities mean he will attempt to revive a fallen comrade, perhaps a feint at injury allowing close enough distance to slit throat.  Target threat level is high.”

Bull dropped his head back against the chair as soon as he finished speaking, his eye closing as though he couldn’t bear to look at Dorian any longer.  It was a feeling Dorian understood well, though his instinct was the opposite.  Fuck, how was he supposed to ever close his eyes around Bull again knowing that all along Bull had been plotting the best way to kill him.  Knowing that Bull had been prepared to frame Dorian if needed…

Fasta vass.  Dorian was tempted to just immolate his lover where he sat, self-preservation fighting a battle with his heart that it for once was winning.  And still…he had asked.  Bull had tried to spare him and he had fucking  _ begged  _ to hear it.

Dropping his own head back against his chair, Dorian watched his lover closely, took in how Bull’s hands curled around the arms of the chair so tightly that his fingers were white from it, his arms positively shaking from the pressure he was applying.  It was that slight tremor that called Dorian’s attention to the fact that Bull’s chest was surprisingly motionless, his lover obviously holding his breath, waiting to hear Dorian’s condemnation of what he had done.

And yet, was Bull any less the man he had been to Dorian before this entire blighted conversation began?  He had been an unapologetic spy when Dorian met him and was still a spy at heart even if he now had no country to report back to.  For a moment Dorian wondered about that, wondered if things had gone differently with Gatt that day on the Storm Coast if Bull would have ever volunteered the information he had shared here tonight and somewhere deep in his heart, he knew that the answer was no.

But the Bull who sat before him now was not that man.   _ This _ Bull had opened up his mind and his heart to Dorian and now sat waiting for Dorian to decide whether he was worthy of the trust Dorian had already given him so freely. 

In the end it was a simple thing to stand and close the distance between them, to drop into Bull’s lap and smile softly at the surprised look the warrior pinned him with, his lungs heaving as he finally drew in a breath of air.  “Dorian…”

“Amatus,” Dorian whispered gently, his hand rising to cup the grey cheek that had become as familiar to him as his own.  “I think you left something out of your report.”

Bull frowned, his hand finally shifting free of the chair to wrap carefully around Dorian’s waist as if afraid he would vanish at the touch. 

“You forgot to mention that I would throw myself headfirst into any battle if it meant saving you…”

“Dorian…”

“…even from your own memories,” Dorian finished, placing a gentle kiss to Bull’s lips that had the warrior melting into him like a puppet whose lines had been cut.

“I don’t deserve you,” Bull whispered, his forehead leaning against Dorian’s.

“I’m fairly certain it is I that doesn’t deserve you, Amatus,” Dorian whispered back, knowing his words were true.  That if the tables were turned he doubted he would a have the strength to admit the things Bull had shared here tonight.  And speaking of secrets…

“If I might suggest, Amatus…”

“The journal?”

“It might do better as kindling…”

Bull chuckled softly, shifting so he could reach for the bag that held the battled black journal and pulling it out, his eyes taking in every nick on the cover as his mind thought of the wealth of information contained inside.  Information he would never need nor want anyone else to have.

Bull was only aware of how long he had been sitting there when Dorian’s hand laid gently over his own. With a low sigh, Bull lifted the book and threw it into the hottest part of the fire, watching as flames began to lick at the edges of the leather.

Settling back in his seat, Bull rested his chin on Dorian’s shoulder as they silently watched his past turn to ashes, his future a comfortable weight in his arms.


	23. Who's there?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Sunday prompt: "we are never doing that again"
> 
> Oh my, this one is very NSFW as well as having what could be seen as dub-con role playing (which is totally consensual between our pair) but warning just in case you prefer to skip that sort of thing. If not, I hope you enjoy!!

Opening his eyes Dorian looked around the room, if you could call the ruins laid out before him a ‘room’.  The last thing he remembered was being in his carriage and the driver reining in the horses so suddenly he had gone tumbling to the floorboard, his head striking the corner of the window on the way down.  Attempting to reach for where he expected the bump on his head to be he found his arms shackled unable to reach even the short distance down to his skull, his toes barely in contact with the stone floor.

Frustrated he reached for his magic, intent on freezing his restraints only to find nothing…not even the faint trace of lyrium that always lingered after a battle.  Instead it was as if it had never existed, as though he had never been a mage at all.  The thought was enough to send a frisson of dread through him, panic making him tear wildly at the manacles and blooming larger when he found he was unable to make them budge.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Dorian startled at the deep, powerful voice that rang through the cold evening air, his fear only growing when his eyes caught sight of the Qunari that stood leaning against the wall only a few feet away.  Kaffas, how had anyone so big slipped in without him noticing?  The beast was tall even for a Qunari, pushing seven foot and covered in scars that said this wasn’t a man who was content to let others fight his battles for him.  A patch covered one eye, tied off to a pair of horns that were at least as wide as his shoulders and with a last frantic rattle of his restraints, Dorian went still.  He was so fucked.

The smile that crossed the Qunari’s lips was predatory, the beast’s voice dropping even lower as he asked, “See something you like, ‘Vint?”

Dorian snorted and turned his head forward, not intending to grace his captor with a response; in a flash he found his jaw gripped painfully tight in one of the Qunari’s powerful hands, his face so close to Dorian’s that the mage could pick out the copper flakes in his one silver eye.  “I ask you a question you answer, ‘Vint, or things will go badly for you.”

“Yes, because they are going so well at the moment,” Dorian hissed, cringing slightly as he prepared for the blow he was certain would follow his outburst.

He was surprised when the beast threw his head back and laughed instead.  “Feisty, I like that,” the Qunari chuckled before turning serious again, his hand slipping from Dorian’s jaw to rest heavy and threatening around his throat, one claw-tipped finger stroking across Dorian’s pulse point.  “But I think you owe me an answer.  So, do you see something you like little ‘Vint?”

Dorian cursed his traitorous dick for daring to twitch at the Qunari’s roughly purred words.  “No.”

Again the Qunari threw his head back and laughed, that clawed hand slipping lower, across Dorian’s chest and abs before brushing against his cock.  “Something tells me you’re lying, little mage.  No worries though, I can assure you that _I_ like what I see.  You might even make this assignment worth dealing with the cold.”

“Assignment?” Dorian stuttered, latching onto the one word that didn’t involve the fact that his stomach was now turning flip flops for entirely different reasons, ones that had everything to do with the fact that his Qunari captor now had one huge hand curled possessively around his hip.

The Qunari took another step closer, his head dropping to nuzzle into Dorian’s throat, breathing deeply.  “Don’t worry about that now, little ‘Vint.  Bosses wanted a noble to interrogate, someone who could tell them what the Magisterium has planned, but you’re far too pretty to turn over.”

Dorian stiffened as the Qunari’s broad tongue licked a path up his neck to bite at the tender skin behind his ear.  He absolutely did not have to hold back a moan, not even when the brute’s hand shifted again to fully cup his half-hardened cock.  “What do you say pretty mage?  Want to thank me for saving you?”

“N..n..n..no,” Dorian forced out even as his hips betrayed him and thrust forward once.

The Qunari tsked, removing his hand from Dorian and taking a step back before regarding him carefully.  “You know,” the man finally whispered, his fingers moving toward the frog closures that held Dorian’s robes closed and working the first one free.  “I think you’re lying again.”  Another closure slipped free, Dorian’s body shivering as the cold air hit his skin.  “And if I can’t trust your words…”  The third and fourth closure were freed.  “I’m going to have to rely…”  The Qunari freed the remaining closures then ran his claws back up Dorian’s abdomen, watching as the muscles bunched and released in the wake of his passage, his fingers finally skirting up Dorian’s chest far enough that he could roll one dusky nipple between his fingertips.  “On the messages your body sends.”

Dorian gasped as the Qunari squeezed hard, a bolt of arousal shooting directly south. He could no more hold back his moan than he could hide the fact that his cock was now as hard as stone.  The Qunari’s fingers released their hold, the horned head dipping down so he could lave the abused area with his tongue, circling around the pert skin before nipping at it while his hand sought out the other nipple, broad palm rubbing temptingly over it.

“Please…” Dorian moaned, hating himself for how needy he sounded when he should be begging the man to stop.

“Please what, little ‘Vint?” The Qunari questioned innocently, blowing softly over the wet skin and hardening it to a painful bud.  Tipping his head back the Qunari grinned wickedly at him.  “Please stop?” he teased, then pinched the other nipple painfully.  “Or please more?”

 _Please stop.  Please.  Stop.  Say ‘please stop_.’  “Please…more.”

“Good boy,” The Qunari grinned, Dorian’s stomach flopping again in a way that it absolutely should not at praise from someone holding him captive.  The Qunari straightened, his free hand slipping behind Dorian’s head, claws scraping gently against his neck as the Qunari dipped his head and kissed Dorian.

He expected it to be hard, demanding, but instead his lips were gently, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick at Dorian’s upper lip before nibbling at his lower, coaxing rather than forcing as his second hand slipped back down Dorian’s chest to dip into his leggings.  Relaxing against his captor Dorian’s lips parted, gaining him a satisfied growl from the Qunari as his tongue licked in, tangling with Dorian’s as they learned the taste of each other.

Reaching for the man Dorian was reminded he was a captive not an equal when his hands were drawn up short, shackles pulling hard at his wrists and drawing a grunt of pain from him that broke their kiss.  His captor must have read Dorian’s renewed determination to fight in his eyes because before he could begin to struggle he was pinned hard against the wall, the Qunari’s hips pressing hard against his own, the hand that had been toying with his hair sliding up to wrap around his wrists, the thumb stoking at skin that was already bruising from his earlier attempts.  “Now, now, none of that, little ‘Vint.  The only bruises I want on you are the ones I leave,” the Qunari whispered against his ear, the hand that had slipped into Dorian’s leathers moving out to tug determinedly at the laces, claws slicing through them until he could force the material off Dorian’s hips.

Dorian shivered as a frigid breeze hit his cock, the head already wet with precome that put a lie to any attempt he might have made to say he wasn’t enjoying this.  And damn it, he _was_ enjoying being at the mercy of this beast who somehow seemed to know all of the things Dorian secretly wanted.  Words and touches that he could only acknowledge craving in the dead of night, when he had only the feel of his own hand to ward off the cold.

“Done panicking, pretty mage?” The Qunari chuckled, pressing one more quick kiss to Dorian’s lips before releasing his hands and dropping to his knees before Dorian. Instead of resuming his temptation of Dorian’s flesh the man turned his attention to Dorian’s boots, working first one then the other off, leaving Dorian’s bare toes to touch the freezing flagstone.

“Kaffas,” he muttered, the chill chasing up his spine and softening his erection slightly, something that didn’t go without notice by his captor who grinned up at him as he pulled Dorian’s leggings off entirely.

“Sorry little ‘Vint…but it had to be done.  I want to feel those muscled thighs of yours around my hips when I pound into you.”

“Fasta vass, you can’t just _say_ things like that,” Dorian muttered, his cock hardening again at just the man’s words, nevermind the hands that were now coursing up his legs, hands that were large enough to wrap almost all the way around his calves.

“Oh little ‘Vint, I can say all sorts of things,” the Qunari laughed, his breath hot and damp against Dorian’s hip, his voice dropping to that tone that Dorian couldn’t resist as he continued, “Better yet, I can _do_ all sorts of things.”

Dorian gasped as a set of sharp teeth sank into his hip, not quite deep enough to break skin but enough to ensure a bruise even before the Qunari began to suck hard against his flesh.  Shifting away, the brute grunted with satisfaction at seeing Dorian’s skin already darkening, his tongue darting out to lap at the spot before nipping a trail down the hollow of Dorian’s hip to where his cock stood, achingly hard.   “Please,” Dorian found himself whispering, hardly recognizing his own voice for the neediness he heard in that one word.

“How can I resist when you ask so nicely?”  The Qunari breathed against him before licking a stripe up Dorian’s cock, drawing a low moan from the mage.  “Like that do you?”

Dorian shifted, trying to urge the man back to him only to realize when the Qunari sat back on his heels and stared up at him expectantly that he actually expected an answer.  Kaffas, wasn’t the fact that his cock was painfully hard enough indication?  Huffing out a frustrated breath, Dorian refused to accept that the heat in his cheeks was a blush as he muttered, “Yes…yes please, more.”

“That’s more like it,” the Qunari chuckled, his head dipping again as he slid his mouth over Dorian’s cock, taking him to the root in one long slow slide that had Dorian hanging limply from his restraints, a deep moan pouring from him.

The Qunari’s tongue circled around him as his mouth moved back up, licking into the slit at the crown before sliding back down again, over and over until Dorian was thrashing above him with the need to come, his hips thrusting weakly against the Qunari’s firm grip on his hip.

“Please…please…please…”  Dorian was barely aware that it was him whispering the plea, his stomach coiling as the Qunari drove him further towards the edge, every muscle pulling tight…

“I told you gentlemen…there is no one here…”

Dorian and the Qun…fuck, Bull, both froze at the sound of Josie’s voice echoing in the other room.  Dorian’s panicked eyes met Bull’s, torn between wanting to try and rip the manacles over the sconce and fearing to make any noise whatsoever.  Bull straightened, silent as a ghost and laid a comforting hand against Dorian’s chest, his eye urging calm.

“I am sure we saw z’em Madame.  An’ look, zere is a bag,” an unfamiliar Orlesian voice countered.

“Perhaps one of the Commander’s men left it behind.”  Josie’s voice was closer now, the door to the outer dungeon rattling tellingly as Dorian gasped.  Bull shifted to completely block his lover’s body from view just as the door opened and Josie stepped through, two masked Orlesians hot on her heels.

“Josie,” Bull drawled as though it were a perfectly normal thing to encounter each other in the dungeons in the middle of the night. He crossed his arms across his chest, adopting an easy posture even as he could feel Dorian’s breath hot against his back.

“Bull,” Josie gasped, her eyes tracking to the chains looped over the scone behind Bull’s shoulder.  “I’m surprised to find you here.”

“Yeah, thought I heard something so I thought I’d come and investigate.  Everything seems quiet, though, if you and your guests want to return to the keep.  I’ll just put out the torches and be right behind you.”

“Yes, yes that’s probably best,” Josie nodded, having to nudge the Orlesians back through the door when they seemed frozen on the spot, their eyes focused on Bull’s broad chest.  “We’ll just let you get back to him…uhm, it, yes, it.”

The door was closing behind the trio when suddenly Josie’s head popped back around it, a wicked grin on her face.  “And good night, Dorian.”

Bull’s boom of laughter echoed through the space interrupted only by Dorian’s head thumping hard against his back as he snarled “We are _never_ doing this again.”

 


	24. Tiny Cakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Adoribull Sunday! Prompt: Dorian or Bull pull a prank on the other only for it to backfire in some way.

Bull’s head jerked up when the door to the Herald’s Rest opened, a little smile playing at his lips as it had the last dozen times the door opened, only to fall when he saw a pair of Cullen’s soldiers step through rather than the man he’d been expecting.

“Alright, Chief, what’s going on,” Krem questioned, his nearly empty mug of ale hitting the table hard enough to make it shudder.

“What makes you ask, Krempuff?”

“You mean aside from the fact you’re as jumpy as a cat with its tail in the door?”

The door opened, again drawing Bull’s attention only to disappoint him once more.  Turning back to Krem he frowned.  “What?”

“The door, Chief.  You keep looking at it like you’re expecting Corypheus himself to walk through any minute.”

Bull chuckled.  “Naw, nothing like that.”

“Awww shit, Chief.  Don’t tell me this is some freaky thing between you and the ‘Vint,” Krem sighed.

Bull’s bark of laughter drew the attention of half the bar.  “Not everything between Dorian and I is kinky, Kremsicle.”

“So, it _is_ about the ‘Vint then?”

Damn, when had his second gotten so sneaky?  With an approving grin Bull leaned closer to his second and admitted, “Remember that night we were all sitting here and Dorian stole the last of those little cakes Josie has brought in from Orlais?”

Krem nodded.  Dorian had responded to Bull’s pouting by dropping into his lap and telling him he was saving him from himself.  Fuck, that had been like a month ago… “Yes, Chief?”

“Well, I decided to pay him back by having all of his robes taken in while he and the Boss were in the Approach.  Then I might have taken his dirty ones to the cleaners while he was in the bath.”

“Oh, Chief…” Krem half chuckled, half sighed, a small part of him offended Bull hadn’t thought to come to him for the alterations.  Not that he’d have done it of course, but maybe he could have saved the Chief his horns, cause the ‘Vint was sure as shit gonna singe them off.  “You know how the ‘Vint is with his clothes, Chief…”

“It was the last cake, Krem…the _last_ one.”

Shaking his head, Krem settled back to wait for the show.

 

 

Two ales and another hour later Bull was beginning to think that Dorian was just going to hole up in their room for the rest of the night.  Apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought so either, since Krem had started giving him that look he had usually reserved for when Bull had really fucked up…the one that bridged the gap between concern and pity.  Shit.

Reaching for his tankard, Bull was just getting ready to drain it then head upstairs to make certain his Kadan hadn’t set fire to all of his robes in a fit of frustration when the door opened once more.  Habit rather than any true expectation to see Dorian had him looking towards the door, his mind dismissing the person that entered the moment he caught sight of the silverite greaves.

Resuming his stretch for his drink he was brought up short when Krem’s hand slammed into his wrist, pinning it to the table.  “What the fuck, Krem?” he scowled, his attention turning to his second only to see Krem lift his chin in the direction of the door.

Thinking maybe Dorian came in with Cullen’s man, Bull turned his attention back to that side of the bar but saw nothing but the warrior.  Sighing softly and shaking his head at his second, Bull’s attention was caught by the chainmail shifting against the warrior’s greaves as the man moved closer, Bull’s eyes skimming up past a trim waist and over the bulky breastplate to the intricately carved lion’s heads that curved around the man’s shoulders.  Hum, if he didn’t know better, Bull would think that was Cullen’s armor but the Commander never...oh damn.

“Dorian?”  Bull was aware his mouth was hanging open but he couldn’t seem to make it shut because fuck…he was pretty sure Dorian had introduced him to a whole new kink just by walking in the door looking like that.

“Amatus,” Dorian purred as he moved closer, pulling out his usual chair and dropping into it with a nod toward Cabot.  “Forgive me for being late…I couldn’t find a thing to wear.”

As silence settled around the table Bull realized that he wasn’t the only one staring.  Every one of the Chargers was currently watching Dorian with some level of fascination.  Surprisingly it was Rocky who spoke first.  “That the Commander’s armor?”

“Humm, yes actually.  It would seem that the laundress saw fit to shrink all my robes while I was gone,” Dorian explained, his tone conversational despite the level glare he pinned on Bull.  “Thankfully, Cullen was able to help me in my time of need…”

Bull surprised himself by growling softly, not quite biting it off quickly enough to avoid Dorian asking, “What was that, Amatus?”

Surprisingly the picture of his lover standing half naked before Cullen asking to borrow clothes was less sexy than Bull would have thought it to be.  Forcing himself to settle back into his chair he muttered, “Nothing, nothing.”

Dorian was spared any further need to explain when Cabot brought the round he had motioned for, Dorian draining half his tankard in one gulp before settling back next to Bull as he normally would.  The moment Dorian settled Bull reached for his thigh as was _his_ normal behavior but instead of warm, taut skin he felt only cold, hard metal.

Frowning, he found Dorian smiling back at him when he raised his gaze, sugar not melting in the mage’s mouth when he asked, “Something the matter, Amatus?”

And right then, Bull knew that Dorian knew what he had done and damn if the mage hadn’t turned the tides back on him.  With a resigned sigh he muttered, “Nothing, Kadan.”

“Good,” Dorian nodded, his eyes telling Bull that he was fully aware that Bull knew he’d been caught.  “Then once we’ve stayed long enough for you to accept that it’s never a good idea to mess with a man’s robes maybe I’ll let you take me upstairs and get me out of this tin suit.”

Images of Dorian’s warm copper skin being revealed slowly from beneath bright silverite flashed through Bull’s mind.  Ok, so perhaps not the best idea he’d ever had…but it might not prove to be the worst, either.


	25. Mistaken Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Sunday Prompt – Adoribull – Modern AU – Bull helps out in a free clinic as an orderly, everyone knows he has a thing for pretty delicate things and lost cases. So it’s no surprise he starts to pay attention to the pretty man who keeps showing up bruised, cut up and once cracked boned with a different name every time, he keeps hoping he says his real one the next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning, as may be inferred from the prompt there is mention of suspected domestic abuse in this fic, nothing graphic but if even the mention of it being possible is triggering for you you may want to skip this one...

 

The first time Bull saw the man he was just leaving one of the clinic’s exam rooms, Adaar still writing out a prescription for him as they headed towards the front door.

“Alright Michael, get this filled and make sure not to take more than one every six hours for the next couple of days.  After that you should be good to change to over the counter pain relievers as long as you keep from running into anymore walls.”

“I promise, Dr. Adaar,” the man whispered with a smile that broke far too soon, his bruised cheek obviously making the movement painful.

Bull waited till the door had closed behind the man before speaking.  “Don’t get a bruise that deep from walking into a wall.”

Adaar startled, looking up from her prescription pad and pinning Bull with a look that said she’d been no more fooled than Bull was.  “It’s not our job to question them, Bull, we just patch them up until the next time.  You know as well as I do we can’t make someone want to get out.”

“Could have at least given him Lavellan’s number,” Bull chuffed.  Marcus Lavellan ran the only shelter for abused men in Skyhold, something that made a bed in his place hard to come by but he always kept a couple spots open for Adaar just in case.

“Brochures are in the room, Bull,” Adaar assured him, resting one of her hands on his shoulder as she went by.  “I left him alone long enough to grab one if he wanted.  That’s the best I can do.”

Bull sighed, knowing she was right.  Didn’t change the fact that having to turn people like Michael back out on the street knowing they’d be seeing him again bugged the shit out of Bull.  But then again, he’d always had a soft spot for pretty things, and beneath that blossoming purple bruise had been a gorgeous man.

 

The second time Bull ran into the man he was just arriving for the opening shift at the clinic and the man was sitting on the ground outside the clinic’s door, his arms braced on his bent knees, head hanging.  He spoke as soon as he was sure the man would hear him, not wanting to startle him.  “You been waiting long?”

The man’s head shot up so fast it slammed into the wall behind him, drawing a low groan from both he and Bull.  “Kaffas, just what I need, a concussion to go with the ribs,” the man growled, rubbing at his head with one hand as he regarded Bull’s outstretched palm dubiously.

Bull wiggled his fingers.  “Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t mean to scare you.  Come on, let me help you up.  Adaar will have my ass if she finds out I let you get injured on property.”

The man, a Vint if his accent was anything to go by, snorted but finally took the hand Bull offered, wincing when he was pulled to his feet.  Bull’s eye narrowed, taking in the way the man’s free hand had slipped lower to cradle his ribs.  “Let me guess, slipped on the stairs?”

“Dr. Adaar didn’t tell me she had a psychic on staff,” the man drawled, his eyes daring Bull to contradict him as he pulled his hand from Bull’s.

Sighing, Bull accepted defeat rather than scare the man off.  Turning back towards the door he muttered, “You might as well come in.  Adaar doesn’t get in for another half hour but even the shitty chairs in the waiting room are better than concrete.  I’d settle you in a room but laying down with those ribs is gonna suck.”

The man scoffed, then winced and grabbed at his ribs again.  “Figured that out in a hurry last night.  That’s when I decided I might as well head down here, at least sitting up didn’t feel like I was breathing glass.”

Bull watched as the man gingerly lowered himself into the closest chair, his eyes dropping shut the moment his ass hit the padding as he obviously breathed through the pain.  Scowling, Bull stormed over to Josie’s desk and reached for one of Lavellan’s brochures, glancing at the back to make certain the man’s number was on it before heading back and thrusting it under the ‘Vint’s nose.  “Next time you might consider calling him.  The number on the back works anytime day or night.  You don’t have to stay…”

“What?”

“Good morning, Bull, you here?” Josie’s voice rang out from the back of the clinic, the brunette quickly striding into view.  “Oh, good.  I picked up some office supplies last night, any chance you could bring everything in? Oh, a client already?  Good morning, Mr…”

“Donner.  Brett Donner,” the Vint provided smoothly, though from the frown that flashed across Josie’s face Bull had little doubt she remembered him by another name also.

“Mr. Donner fell down his stairs, Josie,” Bull helpfully provided, squeezing past her with one last sad look at the man who had already risen, Lavellan’s brochure sitting tellingly on the chair beside him.  Heading out to unload Josie’s car he reminded himself they couldn’t save them all.

 

 

“Your boy was in again last night, Bull.”

Bull turned his attention from his locker to Adaar.  He didn’t need to ask who the woman meant, over the past several weeks everyone at the clinic had started referring to the ‘Vint in the same way.  Maybe because no matter how many times the man left Lavellan’s card behind, Bull kept handing it to him, once going so far as to slip it into the splint Adaar had put on the man’s pinky and ring finger.

Let’s see, that time it had been a television dropping on him.  Then there had been the cuts to his hands and forearms from him fumbling a box of glassware and the bruised knee and shin from tripping over the curb…every Sunday a different excuse, a different name, until Bull wanted to pull the man into a treatment room and make him call Lavellan.

To be honest, Bull had felt torn the day before when he had left for the day without seeing the ‘Vint.  Hope that the man had finally managed to get himself out of whatever abusive situation he was in warred with missing the shy smile he inevitably graced Bull with when they spoke for a few minutes either before or after he had seen Adaar.

Wiping his hand over his face, Bull sighed heavily.  “Shit, I was hoping maybe something had changed and we wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.”

Adaar pulled the tea strainer from her cup and stirred a teaspoon of honey into it before taking a sip and leaning back against the counter to regard Bull from over the rim.  “Something did change, I had to put a half dozen stitches into his head so we’ll be seeing him twice this week.”

Fuck.  Fuck fuck _fuck_.  Clenching his hand into a fist, Bull turned from Adaar back to his locker, slamming it shut with a jarring clang before pounding the side of his fist into it.  “Damn it, how long are we supposed to pretend we don’t know someone is using that man as a punching bag?”

He listened as Adaar took a long, slow sip of her tea and made his hand flatten back out until his fingers were spread across the entire width of his now dented locker.  Drawing in a deep breath he reminded himself that the clinic was here to help those who needed help not to judge them for the reasons they needed it.

Brushing his fingers over the bent metal he whispered, “Sorry, Boss.  I just...it’s just...he’s a good guy, you know.”

He could hear Adaar closing the distance between them, her hand warm and comforting when it curled around his shoulder.  “I know, Bull, but if you push too hard he might stop coming in at all, and then where would he go?  County General asks too many questions and if he could afford to see a private practitioner he probably would be already.”

Another huge sigh shook its way out of him.  “I hear you, Boss.”

“Good, then when I say he’ll be in on Thursday right before closing I know you’ll make the right choice.”

A final pat to his shoulder and she was gone before Bull could even turn around and accuse her of being the old softie she was.  Because Bull’s normal day off was Thursday so he should have missed the ‘Vint.  Instead he had three days to figure out just how to convince the skittish man to let him drive him home.  Maybe even grab a cup of coffee, or dinner.  Dinner would be better.  Last time he’d seen the ‘Vint he was looking a little thin.

 

 

Bull grinned as he watched the ‘Vint stare out the door to the clinic, a scowl creasing his brow and what Bull was certain was a string of Tevene was falling from the man’s lips every bit as thick and heavy as the rain that had started pouring down only a few minutes ago.

Laying on his horn, Bull snickered when the ‘Vint’s attention flew to where his truck was parked, his eyes as wide a saucers.  Gesturing from the passenger side of the truck to the ‘Vint and back again, Bull arched a brow, waiting while the ‘Vint’s scowl deepened for several long moments before eventually sighing as he apparently made his decision.  Bull growled softly when the ‘Vint turned his attention back towards someone in the building, already debating going in to try and convince the man he didn’t intend him any harm, when the door was suddenly open and the ‘Vint came running towards the truck.

Stretching over the bench seat Bull threw the door open, shaking his head when the ‘Vint paused, water pouring down on him as he regarded Bull critically.  “Come on, Big Guy, in or out.  I let Cullen borrow the truck to transport some rescues and the upholstery still smells like dog when it gets wet.”

The ‘Vint’s attention shifted from Bull down to the seat as though a little dog fur could possibly be worse than the gallons of cold water pouring down his spine.  Bull cleared his throat, drawing the man’s attention back to him and was pleased when the ‘Vint apparently decided that he was less of a threat than the pneumonia that walking in this sort of downpour promised.

Gingerly climbing into the truck the ‘Vint settled on the very edge of the seat as he closed the door behind him, reaching a hand up to swipe his sodden hair out of his face.  “I suppose I owe you my thanks, though I’m not exactly certain why you’ve chosen to assist me.”

Bull laughed, the sound filling the cab and chasing a frown back onto the ‘Vint’s face.  “Not sure I’ve ever been complimented and accused in the same sentence before.”

“Yes, well, I’ve long since learned that nothing is given without strings.”

Again Bull’s laugh echoed through the truck.  “But with significantly less blood magic than you’re probably used to.”

The ‘Vint startled, his hand flying to the door handle only to find his wrist firmly grasped by Bull’s.  “Whoa, wait a minute.  Didn’t mean to startle you…”

“How do you know where I’m from?”  Shit, even the ‘Vint’s growl was cultured, his accent deepening as he crisply hissed each word.

“You’re shitting me right?” Bull snorted.  “I mean you have noticed I’m a qunari right?  Well, technically Tal-Vashoth now but still…I practically cut my teeth fighting ‘Vints on Seheron.”

“Well doesn’t _that_ make me feel better?”  The man’s words might be cutting but he had also removed his hand from the door handle.  Unfortunately he also slid his arm out from under Bull’s hand and it had taken far more control than Bull liked to admit to let him have it back.

“Just sayin’, I know a ‘Vint when I hear him.  The name’s The Iron Bull.”  Bull held his hand out and almost convinced himself he was only doing it to be polite, not because he missed the cool feeling of the ‘Vint’s skin against his own.

“Markus Orelian,” the Vint’s lie was as smooth as Bull expected his hand to be, but the one that was slipped into his own was callused, the knuckles rough and bruised.    

“Funny, could have sworn your name was Brett Donner,” Bull kept his expression placid even though the ‘Vint was starting to struggle to reclaim his hand, still held tightly in Bull’s firm grasp.  “Or was it Michael, maybe Octavian…”

“Kaffas, let me go,” the Vint hissed, pulling so hard against Bull that if he let go now the man would slam into the passenger door.  With a heavy sigh the ‘Vint finally stopped struggling, his head dropping as he looked up at Bull through a screen of ebony hair.  His voice, when he spoke, was resigned.  “Like I said, nothing in the South is without cost, is it?”

Bull released him like he’d been burned, his hand shifting up in a placating way.  “Whoa, whoa.  I just didn’t want you bashing your pretty skull open right after Adaar got done fixing it up.  You don’t want to tell me your real name you don’t have to, I just don’t see any reason to go on pretending I _didn’t_ know you were lying.”

“I’m beginning to think this was a poor idea.  I appreciate your offer of a ride The Iron Bull, but I believe it would be better…”

Bull sighed loudly, running a tired hand over his face.  “Look, I promise I won’t say another word if you’ll just let me drop you off.  I’m sorry I pushed, but I’ll feel like a complete asshole if you end up walking in this shit.”

It was the ‘Vint’s turn to sigh, his attention shifting from Bull to the still raging storm outside the window.  Bull watched as the man’s shoulders slumped for a moment before he squared them, straightening and folding his hands in his lap as he remained perched on the edge of the seat.  “Very well, you may take me home.  But only because I don’t want Adaar bitching at me for ending up with bronchitis.  Kaffas, the woman is worse than my mother.  Then again, I’m not certain mother actually ever noticed when I’d injured myself,” the ‘Vint stopped his diatribe to pin Bull with a curious look.  “Are we actually going to move or just spend the evening in front of the clinic?”

Bull snorted.  “First, you’re gonna sit back and buckle up, I swear the seat’s not gonna bite.  Then an address might come in handy or you could just point in a direction and grunt.  Either way I gotta know where I’m heading, Big Guy.”

“Vishante kaffas.”  Bull could have sworn he saw the ‘Vint’s cheeks beginning to redden before the man turned away from him and slid back onto the seat with a little huff.  He made certain to buckle the seatbelt as loudly as possibly before thrusting his hand out to the left, his fingers wiggling beneath Bull’s nose.

Before Bull could take it personally, he saw a hint of a smile cross the ‘Vint’s lips and found an answering one raise on his own.  “Alright, Big Guy, north it is.”

 

They drove in silence after that, Bull’s attention consumed with navigating the rapidly flooding roads as the ‘Vint continued to stare out the window, though Bull occasionally caught a glimpse of him turning his head to study Bull for a moment before turning away again.  Because he knew the ‘Vint was watching, Bull tried to keep the surprise off his face as they made their way away from the strip malls and rent by the month apartments that surrounded the clinic and headed towards the multi-million dollar homes on the hills that overlooked Skyhold.

Following the ‘Vint’s directions Bull found himself coming to a stop on a tree-lined drive in front of an enormous brick house that Bull would never have been able to afford even if he worked for the next hundred years.  Sensing the ‘Vint tensing beside him Bull turned his attention away from the house to find the man biting his lower lip nervously.  “Thank you The Iron Bull.  I appreciate the ride…and the fact that you were true to your word.”

“No problem, Big Guy, happy to help,” Bull assured him with a grin, reaching for a scrap of paper and pen that were laying on the dash and scrawling his number down.  “Do me a favor and call if you ever need a ride…from anywhere I mean.  I don’t like to think of you walking the streets.”

The ‘Vint surprised Bull by taking the offered paper with a little laugh.  “You make it sound like I’m some two bit hooker who got caught out late.”

“What?  Shit, no…it’s just, the clinic’s not in the best area, ya know.  Things happen and you’ve got enough problems…”

Bull knew he’d said the wrong thing when the ‘Vint did his best impression of a post again, all tension and straight spine.  “Yes, well, speaking of which I should get going,” the man said, peering past Bull towards the house before reaching for the door handle.  Hopping out into the rain that was, thankfully, being blocked somewhat by the canopy of trees that stretched over the road, the ‘Vint made to close the door only to pause in the last moment and turn those somber grey eyes up to Bull.  Looking for all the world like he was about to make the biggest mistake ever, the ‘Vint finally whispered, “By the way, it’s Dorian.”

Then he was gone, the truck door slamming as he ran around the back of the truck and up the paved walkway towards the double doors that had to stand twelve feet tall.  Bull watched as the door was opened before the ‘Vint could even reach it, a silk clad arm reaching out to cup him around the neck and drag him inside as the door shut slowly behind him.

Bull was halfway out of the truck before he realized what he was doing, the rain only somewhat cooling his temper at seeing the ‘Vint treated so roughly.  Forcing himself back into the truck he told himself that he’d done all he could do, the ‘Vint had his number if he decided he wanted help.  Besides, if tonight had done nothing else at least he had a name...

“Dorian,” Bull whispered into the silence of the truck, a grin playing at his lips.  Dorian.  Yeah, it suited him.

 

 

 

If Bull had known that night that he wouldn’t see Dorian again for almost three weeks, he might have followed his first instinct and beaten on the door to that brick mansion until whoever was attached to the silk robed arm answered.  Fuck, if something horrible had happened to Dorian because he _hadn’t_ followed his instincts…

The sound of his fist slamming into his already dented locker echoed through the break room, followed quickly by Adaar’s deep tsking.  “Bull, you can’t keep doing this.  I know you like the lost cases but some people are lost because they want to be…”

“Why would he have given me his name if he didn’t want me to help?”

“Bull, you don’t even know it _was_ his name.  Maybe he just wanted to make you happy.  Maybe he thought if he told you, you’d let it go.  Which is what I’m recommending you do.”  Adaar crossed the room, her hands coming up to curl around Bull’s shoulders.  “Go home, Bull.  Better yet, go out with the boys and tie one on.  Just stop obsessing over this man you may never see again.”

“That your professional opinion, Boss?”  Bull was pleased his tone came of as breezy as he’d wanted it to but from the way Adaar’s eyes narrowed it was obvious she wasn’t buying it.

“No, you shit,” she grumbled with a slap at his shoulder.  “My professional advice is to get the hell out of my clinic before I smack you upside the head for being so damn stubborn.”

“Ooooh, feisty,” Bull chuckled as she shoved him toward the door.  “Always knew there was a fire in your belly, Boss.”

“There’s gonna be a boot in your ass if I see you back here before Monday,” Adaar growled, but it was impossible to miss the little grin twitching at her lips when he finally stepped out the door only to pop his head back in a moment later.

“Night, Josie.”

“Night, Bull.”

“ _Out_ , Bull.”

He chuckled as he let the door close behind him, shaking his head slowly as he headed for the truck only to hesitate once inside.  The logical part of him said the Boss was right, he should call up Krem and have him gather up the gang and meet for a few games of pool and a couple pitchers of beer but somehow he had the engine turned on and was heading towards the street without ever picking up his phone.  And if he headed right when he pulled out of the parking lot, no one else needed to know.

 

Bull stared across the street, his attention fully focused on the brick house a few houses down from where he’d parked the truck.  He told himself when he drove past the first time that he was just hoping to catch sight of Dorian and assure himself that the man was fine and not lying in a shallow grave somewhere.  But then he’d turned around and parked and the longer he stared at those two polished doors the more frustrated he felt as he remembered the arm that had snaked out to snatch Dorian inside as though the man were some errant slave.  

Thanks to Krem doing some digging Bull now knew that the arm most likely belonged to Felix Alexius, at least that was the name on the deed to the house, but he wasn’t certain that little tidbit of information actually helped.  Because now that he was here he was finding himself more prone to go pound on those two ridiculous doors until…Bull’s fingers closed painfully tight around the steering wheel, the leather squeaking beneath his punishing grip.  

Bull’s thoughts of mayhem were cut off short when he watched someone dressed entirely in black walk down the driveway, a black duffel slung over his shoulder.  When the man reached the sidewalk he peered up and down the street, his foot tapping impatiently, before looking back toward the house.  Shoulders slumping, the man moved closer to the street, leaning against one of the trees in a way that kept him hidden from view of anyone who might be looking out of the house.

Bull frowned, almost certain that it was Dorian hiding beneath the oversized hoodie but uncertain about what the ‘Vint was up to.  Aside from his one quick glance in Bull’s direction the man had kept his attention focused the other way as if he were waiting for someone, the question was who.  Bull had almost decided to announce his presence when the deep rumble of a muscle car echoed through the quiet neighborhood, a jet black Charger tearing up the street, making a tight u right in front of Bull’s truck before coming to a screeching stop next to the ‘Vint.

He confirmed it was Dorian when the man threw the hood back on his sweatshirt when he bent down to talk to the driver before slapping his hand on the top of the car and hopping inside.  More confused than ever, Bull told himself that now that he’d seen the ‘Vint was still breathing he should back off, go get that drink or two the Boss had suggested which did nothing to explain why he found himself following the Charger instead.

 

Bull was back to staring only this time instead of an upscale brick home in the hills it was a two story warehouse in an area of Skyhold that made the clinic’s neighborhood look posh.  Even more confusing than the ramshackle building that looked like it had been abandoned years ago was the steady stream of luxury cars, interspersed with the occasional modest models, that Bull had watched pull through the rusted gates over the last fifteen minutes.  Watching another Lexus pull through the gates then cross the gravel lot to where the huge shipping doors stood, Bull watched as someone pulled the door open just as the car reached it, quickly closing it again once the car was inside.

“Go home, Bull.  Whatever the ‘Vint’s caught up in it’s none of your business,” he whispered to himself even as he reminded himself that the truck was newly washed and probably wouldn’t stand out too bad.  Sighing heavily he put the truck into gear and swung it through the gates.  “Shit, Adaar’s gonna kill me.”

Bull tensed as he got closer to the rolling door, uncertain if there was some visual clue, a sticker or light that told the person opening the gate that he belonged, but when he got within five feet of the corrugated steel door he found it slid open by a disinterested man who barely spared him a glance before waving him forward.

Pulling into the warehouse he found himself quickly flagged down by another man wearing a yellow reflective vest, his flashlight indicating the spot Bull was supposed to pull into.  The warehouse itself was only about half full of cars, all lined up in tidy rows.  Sliding the truck into position beside a Lotus Esprit he noticed that the Charger he’d seen Dorian climb into was parked in the front row, closest to a small access door that was open.  Fumbling for a moment with the pocket knife perpetually on him Bull decided to err on the side of caution and locked it in the glovebox before hopping out of the truck.

Scanning the area quickly, Bull watched a couple of people exit through the door near the Charger and began heading that direction.  Stepping out into the evening air Bull found himself facing a second, smaller warehouse, this one in far better repair and with bright lights spilling out of the bank of windows set high on the walls.  Making his way toward a door similar to the one he just walked out of, Bull watched as a huge qunari with short, thick horns tipped with gold used a metal detector to scan the couple that he’d been following before waving them into the building.

He was about halfway across the space between buildings when he finally heard the noise start, some sort of chanting paired with the stomping of feet.  Only the years he’d spent in Seheron kept Bull’s feet moving despite the shiver that crept up his spine.  This whole setup screamed illegal to him, the cheering reminding him of the matches he’d seen televised from the Proving Grounds in Minrathous.

“Fighters entrance is to the north.”  Bull’s head shot up to find the qunari at the door nodding off to the right.

“Not fighting,” Bull huffed, holding his arms out to the side so the man could scan him.

“Ah.  Sorry, man.  You could do some damage in there even with the missing eye,” the qunari grinned, finishing up with the detector and waving Bull through the door.  “Enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks,” Bull muttered, stepping through the door into a cacophony of noise.  The chants Bull had heard before were actually cheers coming from the ocean of people sitting on steel bleachers, his view between their feet showing a six sided steel cage.  Over the cheering came the calls of the bet takers, odds being revised and reviewed every few minutes based on the takers.  Then there was the tinny sound coming through a speaker somewhere announcing names and bout numbers.

Frown still firmly in place Bull made his way around the back of the bleachers until he could get a clear view of the cage, a human and an elf circling each other cautiously before lashing out in a flurry of moves that had the crowd surging to their feet only to sink back a moment later when the pair backed off and began circling again.

Making his way towards the cage Bull began searching the crowd for Dorian, wondering if perhaps instead of an abusive lover the man had some sort of gambling problem.  Making his way toward the bleachers on the other side of the cage Bull absently noted that the elf had gotten the human on the ground, a series of fierce kicks to the man’s ribs forcing him to curl up defensively even as the crowd surged to their feet again, their cries thunderous as backers for each fighter screamed encouragement.

Only when the human tapped the ground three times did the elf back off with a victorious snarl, the tinny voice of the announcer declaring, “The win goes to Arthon.  Next up we see the battle for Seheron played out right here in Skyhold.  The ‘Vint, Leonidas, versus the Qunari, Karasaad.  Here’s your chance folks, money is five to one on Karasaad…come show us who you think deserves to win the island.”

Bull rolled his eyes.  Fucking southerners.  Not a damn one of them knew what happened on that fucking island, if they did they wouldn’t be so quick to bring it into a fight where you could tap out when you were done.  Of course, a ‘Vint like Dorian might just consider this bout a lucky one to bet on…

Pushing off the bleacher he’d been leaning against, Bull strode toward the outer ring where the bookies were all stationed, individual calls echoing in his ears as he heard the odds shift to six to one for the Qunari.  Even after walking a full circle around the outer edge of the bleachers Bull hadn’t seen any sign of the ‘Vint and had just spun to head back towards the ring to scan the bleachers again when he found his way blocked off by another towering qunari.  “Fighters coming through.”

Sighing softly, Bull settled in for a wait only to find himself looking at a familiar mop of black hair, the ‘Vint’s entire attention focused on the dwarf at his side rather than looking into the crowds.  “Yes, yes, Varric, I understand,” Bull heard him mutter as he walked right past Bull.

“You better cause this guy’s going for blood,” the dwarf beside him growled before they got too far away for Bull to hear anymore.

Bull watched as a decent sized qunari stormed past.  The man was nowhere near as large as Bull or the security he’d seen so far, but there was something in the man’s eyes that had him worried for Dorian.  Shit.  Dorian.  Illegal cage fighting.  He wasn’t sure when he’d last judged a situation so poorly.

He drifted closer to the cage, but stopped while he was still in the bleachers’ shadow, hesitant to get too close incase Dorian recognized him and it threw the ‘Vint off his stride.  A fear he quickly realized was unfounded as Dorian circled the cage reminding Bull of a caged lion, all taut, sinewy muscle as he circled the qunari who suddenly seemed outclassed even though he was both taller and broader than the ‘Vint.  With a low roar the qunari lunged toward Dorian, the ‘Vint crouching and rolling to the right to avoid him while kicking out with his foot at the qunari’s knee.

The crowd screamed as Dorian sprang back to his feet and pressed his advantage, forcing the qunari against the side of the cage and laying into him with a flurry of kicks to his side before springing back when the larger man attempted to grab him.  Unlike the previous match, the crowd stayed on their feet this time, half of them screaming for the ‘Vint and almost the same number urging the qunari on.

With a shake of his head the larger man closed the distance again, his longer arm reach letting him get a couple of punching in on Dorian’s shoulder and a glancing blow off his cheek as the ‘Vint ducked his head and punched the man hard in the ribs twice.  The qunari brought both his fists down on Dorian’s exposed back, dropping the ‘Vint to his knees where the qunari took advantage of his size and slammed his knee into Dorian’s face.

Getting his hands up to block his face, the ‘Vint shook his head and rolled quickly away, blood coursing down his cheek as the pair circled each other warily.  Having been caught by the qunari’s reach before, Dorian was careful to lean away from him, occasionally bouncing closer to take a swing or kick as the crowd continued to get worked up, both sides screaming for the fighters to get on with it.

Bull could see the qunari’s tension level rising as the odds for him fell down to two to one.  The man’s eyes darting from Dorian to the crowd and back again while Dorian just continued to stalk him like the crowd didn’t exist.  Finally, the qunari broke, rushing Dorian again only to have Dorian swing away, his leg rising over his head as he came back around with a bone-crunching kick to the qunari’s head that dropped him like a rock.  

If Bull had thought the crowd loud before, it was deafening now, everyone on their feet and stomping.  Bull watched as Dorian was met at the cage door by the dwarf and the pair of them escorted back in Bull’s direction.  This time he made no pretense of hiding, positioning himself where the ‘Vint couldn’t possibly miss him and knowing he’d been seen when Dorian tripped over his own two feet, stumbling into the dwarf and drawing a scowl from the shorter man.

He watched as Dorian said something, obviously about him since the dwarf’s eyes immediately shot his direction only to widen briefly, a large smile crossing the man’s face as he smacked Dorian on the shoulder.

Then it was Dorian’s attention Bull was fully aware of having as the ‘Vint stormed over to him, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him past the security guard who was trying to keep people away.  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Shit if he wasn’t sexy all riled up, his accent thickening and his body glistening with a combination of oil and sweat.  “Uhm, I was in the neighborhood.”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed.  “Vishante kaffas, have you been _following_ me?  Why in the Maker’s name would you...”

“Hey, Sparkler, not that I’m against a good story but you’re starting to gather attention,” the dwarf interrupted, ignoring Dorian’s snarl of frustration and gripping him by the elbow.  

The pair stared at each other for some time before Dorian finally growled, “Fine, we’ll take it out back.  You, come with me.”

Bull arched his brow, some part of him turned on by this more aggressive side of the usually quiet ‘Vint and without a word, he fell into step behind Dorian and the dwarf.  The ‘back’ Dorian referred to apparently meant a corner of the warehouse that had been set aside for the fighters, a couple rows of benches as well as some card tables with folding chairs dotted the space and as soon as Dorian slipped through the curtain that blocked the space off from casual view he was approached by several of the other fighters offering congratulations.

“May as well have a seat, he’ll be a while,” the dwarf offered, kicking at one of the folding chairs nearest them.  “Name’s Varric Tethras.”

Bull settled carefully onto the chair before offering his hand.  “The Iron Bull.”

Varric gave a sharp bark of laughter.  “Shit, don’t think I could come up with a better name for you.  So how do you know Sparkler?”

Bull read nothing in the man’s expression except normal curiosity but if Dorian hadn’t mentioned him to Varric he probably had a reason.  “We’ve run into each other from time to time.”

Varric stared him down for a moment before nodding.  “Good to know Sparkler’s at least getting out sometimes.  I thought he kept himself shut up in that huge house of his all the time.”

“Simply because I don’t want to go out to that cesspool you call a bar does not mean I am a hermit,” Dorian chided as he approached the pair of them, bending to scoop up a black duffel and pulling out a pair of black sweats and the same hoodie Bull had seen him in earlier.  Slipping them on over his shorts, Dorian slung the bag over his shoulder and gave Varric a pat.  “Have my share deposited would you?”

“Like always, Sparkler.”

“Good, then I think Bull will see me home tonight.”  Dorian said, not bothering to wait for Bull to agree before heading off towards a door Bull assumed must be the fighter’s entrance he’d been directed to earlier.

Springing to his feet he heard Varric laugh behind him as he hurried after the ‘Vint, even his long legs not letting him catch up before Dorian had left the building.  Blowing through the door, Bull was prepared to have to chase him down only to find Dorian leaning against the side of the warehouse, knee bent and foot braced against the wall.  Scowling at Bull, Dorian drawled, “You have one chance to explain what the fuck you’re doing here and if I don’t like your answer you’re going to make the acquaintance of some very unfriendly men tonight.”

_Shit.  He’d been right, Dorian was damn sexy when he was pissed._  Not that that was going to help his cause in the least.  Unfortunately, Bull had a feeling the only thing that _would_ help his cause was absolute honesty…even if it did make him look like an idiot.  With a shrug he admitted, “I was worried about you.”

Dorian’s eyes widened, surprise evident on his face before he schooled his features back to neutral.  “Why in Andraste’s sweet ass cheeks would you be worried about me?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, you have a tendency to show up at the clinic looking like…well, like you’d gone a few rounds,” Bull huffed, sighing softly before continuing.  “I thought that fancy boyfriend of yours was using you as a punching bag.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Felix Alexius.  It is his house you live in right?”

Dorian laughed, the sound strong and true and Bull had the strangest feeling it wasn’t something the ‘Vint did very often which was a shame, because it was a lovely sound.  “Bull, Felix is most definitely not my boyfriend.  Kaffas, do you misjudge every situation this badly?”

“No, honestly I’m usually spot on.  Except, apparently, where you’re concerned,” Bull admitted, cocking his head slightly as he wondered why exactly that might be.  “Not that I’m taking all the blame for this one.  You show up at the clinic every week with different injuries and a different name, shit even Adaar thought it was domestic abuse.”

Dorian sighed heavily.  “I assure you Bull, the only abuse going on is what I allow to be inflicted on myself.”

“See, and that right there…you speak like you come from money and you fight like you grew up in the streets…what’s the story, Dorian? That is your name, right?  Adaar and I have had words over whether you just told me it was to get me off your back.”

“I told you that in a moment of weakness,” the ‘Vint admitted, his shoulders dropping as the evening obviously began to catch up with him.  “And it is Dorian.  Dorian Pavus.”

“Come on, let me take you home and you can explain on the way.  That is if you’re willing to let me skip the beat down portion of the night.”

“Well, I suppose your truck is moderately better than Varric’s charger…he insists on calling it Bianca and he pets the dash while he drives.”

Bull laughed and reached out to pluck the duffel off Dorian’s shoulder, the pair of them falling into step silently as they made their way toward the truck.  Bull was somewhat surprised that Dorian let him open the door for him, though he did ignore the hand Bull held out to help him into the truck, settling himself before reaching for his bag and placing it on the floor beside him.

By the time Bull got around to the driver’s side Dorian had buckled up and with a little grin, Bull quickly got them back out onto the road.  “So, I think you were going to explain how someone like you ended up cage fighting.  Not to mention why the hell you trek all the way down to Adaar’s place rather than go to some fancy private doctor I’m sure you can afford.”

“There you go making assumptions again,” Dorian snorted, shifting on the bench seat so he could look at Bull before continuing.  “The short answer is Felix.”

“And the long answer?”

Dorian’s sigh filled the cab.  “The long answer would be that Felix is my oldest and dearest friend.  He is also dying.”

Bull used the opportunity of a red light to turn and look at Dorian, almost wishing he hadn’t when he saw the bleakness in those expressive silver eyes.  “Shit, I’m sorry, Dorian. Is it…?”

“The blight, can you believe that?  No one dies of the blight anymore,” Dorian chuffed, his hand raising to point at the light which had turned green.  Once Bull had turned his attention back to driving, Dorian continued, “Felix is an archeologist you see, ancient Dwarven history, and he had the opportunity to explore the Deep Roads.  He was infected there, some horrible strain that was sitting around dormant just waiting for someone with an open wound and there Felix went, hands always scuffed up as he dug for some new treasure.”

“That’s some shit luck.”

“Yes, quite.  Anyway, Felix’s father is very over protective and if he knew just how bad the illness was he would insist Felix return to Tevinter.  But Skyhold is home to Felix and that’s where I come in.  You see, the treatments Felix needs aren’t cheap but if he goes through his own finances his father will find out so…”

“So you let yourself get beaten up on a weekly basis to keep your friend healthy.”

“Well, when you put it like that it doesn’t sound nearly as appealing.  Truth is, I’m a professor by trade but I’m afraid that doesn’t pay the kinds of bills Felix is racking up.  In all honesty, I wasn’t certain what I was going to do before I met Varric.  He’s related to another old friend of mine so he was familiar with my rather unique upbringing.  Namely the few years I spent on the streets of Minrathous after father decided I didn’t exactly fit the family mold.  Varric said I could make money fighting, more money in one night than I could from a week teaching and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“So then visiting Adaar’s clinic…”

“Adaar doesn’t ask questions.”

“Yeah, but Dorian, surely you know you can’t keep this up long term…”

“What part of ‘dying of the blight’ didn’t you understand?” Dorian snapped, shifting so that he was facing forward as Bull turned onto his street.

Bull let silence reign until he pulled the truck up in front of the house, putting the truck in park and reaching for a hand before Dorian could make his escape.  “Listen, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for your friend and I’m really sorry that I read the situation so fucking wrong, but neither of those things changes the fact that I’m worried about you.  Shit, I may be _more_ worried about you now having seen just what you’re up against in that cage.”

“I’m not going to stop, Bull.  Whatever Felix needs for as long as he needs it, that’s the reality of this.”

“Not asking you to stop, just asking you to be careful…and maybe asking if you’d like to go get dinner some night.”

“Bull…”

“You don’t have to decide now.  Think about it and let me know when you come in to see Adaar tomorrow.”

“What makes you…”

Bull growled softly.  “You _will_ go see Adaar tomorrow.  I saw those punches he landed on your spine, Dorian.”

The ‘Vint stared him down for several long moments before finally rolling his eyes.  “Yes, fine.  I’ll see Adaar tomorrow.  For now I should get inside.”

“Yeah, alright,” Bull agreed, forcing himself to let Dorian’s hand go and watching as he leapt from the truck and hurried towards the door.

Just as he was prepared to turn away he saw Dorian drop his bag and race back to the truck, hurrying around the hood as Bull rolled down his window.  Leaping onto the side step Dorian reached through to wrap one hand around Bull’s neck, pulling him close enough that he could place a hard kiss to his lips before leaning back.  “My answer is yes…it’s yes.”

Before Bull could even respond Dorian had scurried back the way he came, hurrying up the walk and scooping up his bag before entering the house without ever looking back.  “You’re an odd man, Dorian Pavus,” Bull whispered with a shake of his head.  “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”


	26. Oh, So It's Like That...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't technically a Sunday prompt, but instead the crosspost for a fill I did for the Adoribull Kink Meme Fill Week.  
> The original prompt was:  
> Bull's 'my door is always open' policy and the 'ill considered night after drinking' beginning leaves me with no reason to think Bull and Dorian are in an exclusive relationship when they start. So Bull and Dorian have slept together a few times, there's been no promises made, and intellectually Dorian knows Bull is probably sleeping with other people. One day he slips into Bull's room, and finds Bull already busy with someone else. Dorian is not prepared for how upset he is by this. Fluffy, happy ending please!
> 
> \+ Bull is all 'hey Dorian, want to join?'  
> \+ Bull is with a redhead, and Dorian notices that  
> \+ Dorian pretending he's not upset  
> \+ Someone finds Dorian in tears (can be Bull, can be someone else)  
> \+ Krem appearing at some point (++ if it involves telling Bull he's a complete idiot)

Dorian stormed up the stairs to the battlement as though Corypheus himself were on his heels, his mind still trapped on the idiot he’d just about incinerated in the great hall.  It wasn’t so much that the obnoxious Antivan had said anything Dorian hadn’t heard before.  It was just that coming on the heels of a very bad day that had seen Dorian’s request to borrow an ancient Tevinter text from one of the Circles refused because ‘they could not possibly trust someone like _him_ to return it’ as well as one of the few _useful_ volumes he possessed destroyed by one of the new mages who had managed to spill an almost full bottle of ink on it, Dorian had been pushed beyond the point of reason when the Antivan had sneered at him and asked him if it were true that Tevinter mages sacrificed children upon altars to secure their magical abilities.

Thankfully, Evie had been there to lambast the man for Dorian, leaving him free to flee from the great hall before he gave in to the urge to sacrifice the idiot on the altar of his own stupidity.  Sighing heavily, Dorian pulled himself back to the present, only mildly surprised to find that during his flight he had set a path that led directly for Bull’s door.  Staring at the worn wood, Dorian was moderately more surprised to realize that even if he’d been thinking logically of a place to go he would have ended up the same place.

Kaffas, when had that happened?  Certainly, he and Bull had come to an arrangement that seemed to suit them when it came to sex, typically spending one or two evenings in the tavern drinking before one of them finally decided enough was enough and they slipped upstairs to spend several glorious hours naked and sweaty until both of them were so sated they couldn’t move.

But sex wasn’t exactly first on Dorian’s mind today and still he’d found himself here…knowing without it having to be expressly said that the Qunari would listen as Dorian vented about his day, would provide a safe sounding board for Dorian’s anger without judging him and then, well, perhaps he wasn’t entirely averse to saying thank you for listening from his knees, his mouth full of Bull’s cock.

With the first true smile of his day still playing at his lips, Dorian opened the door, barely making it over the threshold before freezing.  He wasn’t certain what hit him first, the fresh, heavy musk of sex or the deep growls that he knew belonged to Bull interspersed with a low moaning, but there was no denying the vision before him as his eyes finally adjusted to the lower light levels in the room, Bull’s naked ass facing him as he pounded into a smaller man with skin the color of a lily.

Fasta vass.  Of course Bull was with someone else.  What in Andraste's sweet ass had made him think…

“Dorian,” Bull’s voice boomed out, an easy smile on his lips.  “Come in, come in.”

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t…I…”

“Bah, more the merrier right, Davon,” Bull chuckled, thrusting exceptionally hard into the man before him as the man’s head shot up, thick red hair and freckles registering with Dorian’s mind even as his heart seemed to seize within his chest.

Kaffas, he hadn’t realized he…fuck, he needed to…

Forcing a grin to his lips that he knew didn’t reach his eyes Dorian was pleased to find his voice didn’t waver as he shook his head and whispered, “No, really.  I can’t right now.  Sorry to have intruded.”

“Dorian?”

Dorian made his smile even broader the moment he caught the frown crease Bull’s brow.  The last thing he needed was Bull realizing just how upset Dorian was, especially since it was his own fault.  It’s not like Bull had ever given Dorian reason to believe there _wouldn’t_ be someone else with him.  “I’m afraid I forgot something I simply must tend to…don’t let me interrupt what promises to be a pleasant evening.”

Thankful that he had only made it a couple of steps into the room, Dorian quickly backtracked and closed the door behind him, only then giving in to his instinct to flee.  And shit, if heading to Bull’s room had been fleeing blindly, finding himself up on the half circle balcony he sometimes used for training without encountering anyone was nothing short of a miracle.

Dropping down to the ground next to one of the crates that always seemed to be in attendance, Dorian allowed the tears that had been burning at the back of his eyes to fall.  Venhedis, he truly was a fool.  How many failed trysts had he been through in Tevinter?  How many times had he taken the sweet words whispered against his skin to heart only to learn that they meant less than nothing by the light of day?  How many times had his heart sunk when he would pass a paramour in the streets only to be ignored as though he weren’t even worthy of a civil greeting?

Kaffas, even if he hadn’t learned those lessons then, to dare to develop feelings for _Bull_ of all people.  It wasn’t as if the Qunari’s ‘open door policy’ was exactly a secret…nor was his predilection for red-heads.  How could he fault Bull for claiming someone who fit his desires so perfectly?

Beating his head back against the crate behind him several times, Dorian swiped at his tears, telling himself he needed to get himself together.  Yet the image of Bull’s hands curled around the red-head’s hips wouldn’t leave his mind, his heart threatening to shatter again. It was a sharp pain honed to a razor edge when he thought of Bull saying all the things he had told Dorian to this new man.  That he was good, that he was beautiful, how much he loved it when he fell apart just for him…

 

 

Bull felt his stomach drop the moment the door closed behind Dorian and knew he’d just fucked up.  He had seen it in Dorian’s eyes, in the tightness of his smile, in the way his hands had been balled into fists and he knew he had somehow made a mistake.  That he had made assumptions about what Dorian would want based on what he knew of Tevinter and damn it if _that_ wasn’t just sloppy as fuck.

“Bull?”  Davon’s voice had Bull’s attention shooting back to the man laid out before him, disappointment warring with understanding in the man’s green eyes before he quietly slid forward off Bull’s cock.  “Guess we’re done here, huh?”

Bull had to think about that one for a minute.  After all, yes he had been careless with Dorian’s emotions, mostly in assuming the Vint didn’t have any for him, but it wasn’t like what he was doing was wrong.  He and Dorian had never discussed exclusivity so he had every right to stay right the fuck here.  His stomach practically tied itself into a knot instantly.  So, it was like that was it?  “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that but I’m afraid so.”

Bull headed for the wash basin, the cold water not really needed since just thinking about that look on Dorian’s face was enough to kill his erection, but he also knew better than to go chasing after the Vint smelling like another man.  Washing up quickly, he wondered when things got so damn complicated, had to wonder if he was even capable of giving the Vint what he obviously wanted but hadn’t been willing to ask for.

He almost talked himself into believing that it was for the best.  That if commitment was something Dorian needed, he was better off finding it with someone who had at least a small clue what it was. Bull only knew commitment as the exact opposite of his usual behavior. Yeah, better the Vint get that from someone else.

Just as Bull decided to leave Dorian be, Davon slipped out of the room behind him, the door closing again. Suddenly, all Bull could think of was Dorian stretched out in his bed, beads of sweat shining on his copper skin like diamonds in the light of the fire. Right behind the first image was the way Dorian looked in those moments right before they agreed to leave the tavern, his eyes so full of need and yearning but always tempered by the thought that tonight might be the night Bull said no. Chest tightening over those thoughts, Bull realized he didn’t want that.

He wanted to know how Dorian looked with those reservations stripped from him, wanted to be able to watch Dorian wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night and fuck, hold him close in a damn tent in the middle of Emprise du Lion without having to debate whether it was smart.  He wanted Dorian to snipe at him and laugh with him and fucking test him every moment of the day because he’d never get enough of the way the Vint’s eyes shined in those moments and fuck, yeah…he’d fucked up worse than he thought.  How could he have not known before now?

Throwing on the first pair of pants he encountered Bull slipped his feet into boots and headed for the door as he tried to decide just where Dorian would have gone to hole up.  He knew it wouldn’t be the library or his room, he’d want to go somewhere that he wouldn’t be found. That left way too much ground to cover and too little time to do it.  Because if there was anything Bull knew about the Vint it was that right now he’d be convincing himself that Bull was a mistake and once he got those damn walls built back up it’d take a high dragon to knock them down again.

“What’d you do this time, Chief?”

Bull spun, surprised to see Krem sitting on one of the benches outside the tavern.  “What’s that, Krem?”

“Saw the Vint go running by a while ago like a pack of demons was nipping at his heels.  Figured it was either you or the Commander called him on cheating at chess again.”

“Yeah, it was me,” Bull admitted with a sigh as he rubbed at his horn.  “Don’t suppose you saw where he got off to?”

“Depends,” Krem grumbled, pushing off the bench and moving toward Bull, looking for all the world like he’d rather have never seen Dorian in the first place.  “What exactly did you do, Chief?  ‘Cause I’m pretty sure he was crying.”

Shit.  That would do it.  Nothing Krem hated more than to see someone crying.  Bull tried not to cringe as he admitted, “He might have walked in on me with someone else.”

Krem’s eyes narrowed as he scowled up at Bull.  “Fuck, Chief, why’d you do something like that?  I mean I thought you and the Vint…”

“Crap, was I the only one who _didn’t_ know I was apparently in a relationship?” Bull grumbled, hating the way Krem could make him feel about two inches tall with just a look.

“Yeah, kinda.  I mean, we all assumed when he started sitting in your lap all night that it was something more than casual.  Not like the Vint’s one to do that with just anyone.”

Hmm, better make that about an inch tall.  “Well it’s not like we ever talked about it,” Bull muttered defensively, hoping it didn’t sound as pathetic to Krem as it did to him.

No such luck, he decided when Krem rolled his eyes.  “Shit, Chief.  You really are an idiot.  Maybe it’d be better for Dorian if I didn’t tell you where…”

Krem broke off as Bull took a step forward, a low growl forming in his chest at just the thought of being denied the information he needed.  “Listen.  I fucked up, I get that…but I’m gonna make it right and to do that you need to tell me where he went.”

Krem broke into a huge grin, his eyes lighting up as though Bull had just passed some test he hadn’t been aware of taking.  “He was headed for the upper terrace, the one below the Inquisitor’s room.”

“Thanks, Krem…” Bull muttered, turning away from his second and racing towards the stairs.

 

 

Dorian wiped his tears off with his robe and told himself he really needed to make his way back to his room before someone caught him up here looking like he’d been crying his eyes out for thirty minutes.  He had just about convinced himself when he heard the door open with a slow creak and he was forced to bite back a curse.  Kaffas, perhaps if he stayed still enough they’d never even know he was here as tucked into the crates as he was.

“Dorian?”

Fuck.  He debated staying silent but if Bull had tracked him all the way up here, Dorian doubted the warrior would leave without checking every corner of the terrace.  Swiping at his face again with his robes, Dorian hissed, “Go away, Bull.”

Sooner than he would have liked, Dorian saw Bull’s feet bracketing his own, the huge man crouching down before him with a sigh.  “I’m sorry, Dorian.  I didn’t understand.”

Dorian snorted.  Of course he didn’t understand.   _Dorian_ hadn’t understood until it had been right there in his face in vivid silver and white.  “It’s my fault,” Dorian admitted, his eyes not daring to climb higher than were Bull’s hands hanging, his elbows braced on his knees.  “I always expect too much.  You’d think I’d have learned by now how these things go.”

“These things can go any way you want them to,” Bull countered, a hint of irritation showing through in his voice, pulling a soft snort from Dorian.

“Yeah, well, I think I could live a lifetime without having to go through _that_ again so in this case, I think it’s better if we call it quits.”

“You don’t cry your eyes out over someone you want to call it quits with, Dorian.”

Dorian wanted to tell him to go fuck himself.  That if it really mattered to him, Dorian wouldn’t have caught him balls deep in another man, but before he could manage to get a word out he instead burst into tears again.  Vishante kaffas, could this get any more mortifying?

Apparently it could, because the question had barely flitted through Dorian’s mind before he felt Bull’s fingers curl under his chin and press up, demanding he let Bull see all the things Dorian had hoped to hide.  Instead, as his eyes met Bull’s steady silver stare, Dorian found all of the things he was just starting to understand himself laid bare, nothing in Bull’s gaze giving him any clue what the qunari himself was feeling.

If indeed he was feeling anything, Dorian told himself, his eyes starting to shift away from Bull's.  Because the odds were…

“Don’t do that,” Bull grumbled, his fingers tightening their grip on Dorian’s chin.  “Don’t hide from me.”

Dorian sighed softly.  “Listen, Bull.  You don’t need to…”

“What if I don’t want to call it quits?  What if I want to see where this, whatever it is between us, goes?”

Dorian’s heart leapt into his throat, his eyes flying back to meet Bull’s as though daring him to be lying.  His words, when he spoke, were measured, mostly because he was afraid if he allowed even a hint of emotion to cloud them he’d never be able to get them out.  “What exactly are you saying, Bull?”

“I’m saying you and me… _just_ you and me.  Dinners and maybe lunches and a whole lot more nights with you curled in my lap listening to the Chargers try to embarrass me.”

“Bull, if you’re just doing this because…”

“Hey, I may be an idiot, but I’m not a complete moron.  I’m doing it because the moment you walked out the door today I felt like my stomach had a rock the size of a druffalo in it and I knew, just knew that I’d fucked up something important…something I should have seen earlier but hey, one eye here…”

Dorian snorted, a completely undignified sound and he couldn’t possibly care less.  “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to play that card…”

“Hey, I’m fighting for something important here, I’ll do whatever it takes,” Bull countered, his expression so vulnerably hopeful Dorian wondered how he could have missed it before…that he wasn’t the only one who’d been surprised by just how serious things had gotten while they’d been trying to keep it light.

Sniffling, Dorian raised his hand to cup Bull’s jaw, his thumb brushing across his cheek and drawing a shiver from the larger man.  “You know, I’m bound to fuck this up.”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, Big Guy,” Bull chuckled, turning his head so he could place a kiss to Dorian’s palm.

“Yes, because _that’s_ so reassuring.”

“Maybe you’ll feel better knowing Krem told me I was being an idiot.”

“Yes, well, he always was my favorite.”

“I’m telling him you said so.”

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“I could be bribed to keep my mouth shut,” Bull assured him, leaning forward and pressing one finger to his lips.  “Maybe.”

“I don’t know,” Dorian tsked, leaning forward all the same, “starting a relationship with bribery doesn’t sound like a very good idea.”

Bull’s hand curled around the back of Dorian’s head and pulled him closer still, his breath hot against Dorian’s lips as he whispered, “Shut up and kiss me.”

Before he could do more than gasp in outrage, Dorian found his lips meeting Bull’s in a kiss that soon had him deciding that maybe Bull was right.  Sometimes words were overrated.


	27. No Stone Unturned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Prompt! Dorian frantically trying to dig Bull out after a cliff slide happens!

_But we’re in the Emerald Graves._

Embarrassing as it was to admit, that thought was the only thing that went through Dorian’s mind as he watched it happen.

 

They had been headed toward someplace called the Lion’s Pavilion that Fairbanks had marked on their map.  Apparently one of the man’s scouts had seen evidence of a rift in the area, but before they could even reach the place Evie had felt the telltale pull of the fade and they’d found themselves standing in a river battling demons.

Two lesser terror demons, one despair and a pair of wraiths.  Dorian wondered what it said about him that he actually had a battle plan in his head for just that configuration of demons.  Then again, they all did, Bull taking on both terror demons while Varric and Evie made short work of the wraiths, leaving the despair demon for him to chain cast horror on until they were ready to deal with it.  The second grouping, and why in Andraste’s sweet bosom did there always have to be two of them, consisted of four wraiths, a rage demon and one greater terror.  Again the four of them fell into a familiar pattern, moving almost silently around each other as they dispatched each demon back to the fade.

It was only after the battle was over, Evie focused on closing the rift with Varric watching over her, that Dorian turned to find Bull grinning in his direction, the warrior’s axe slung over his shoulder, blood, both his own and the demon’s, spotting his skin.  “Hey, Kadan…”

Dorian was already rolling his eyes in anticipation of whatever embarrassing thing was certain to be falling from his lover’s lips when with a low rumble, the entire hillside behind Bull slid.  Trees and bushes tumbled in a torrent of mud and rocks that quickly escalated in volume until Dorian’s ears were ringing, his scream of warning to Bull drowned out though he could feel his entire chest explode into pain from the ferocity of his cries.

Then, as quickly as it began it was over, the entire landscape changed in an instant and Bull lying somewhere at the bottom of it.  And the only thing rattling around Dorian’s shocked mind was…but we’re in the Emerald Graves.

Almost before he could realize just how ludicrous that thought was, Evie was screaming, “Bull…Dorian, tell me you got up a barrier.”

_A barrier.  Why would Evie need a barrier?_  He was missing something, Dorian knew he was, and then Evie was right in front of him, her hands warm against the side of his face.  “Dorian…I need to know…if you got…a barrier up on Bull?”

It was like waking up from the fade, the shock falling from him like sleep wiped out of his eyes, his features hardening in a frown.  “Kaffas, Evie, I’m…I’m not certain…” he started, breaking off to push past her.  He hurried as close to the disturbed ground as possible before reaching out with his magic, searching for the familiar push back of like to like and almost dropping to his knees when he felt it.

Quickly refreshing the barrier he could only hope was actually surrounding Bull, Dorian could feel the instant pull against it, the constant pressure of so much displaced soil a far larger drain than the ebb and flow of battle.  Casting the spell again, Dorian growled, “The barrier is up but you and Varric are going to have to dig him out…”

Dorian broke off with a frown, forced once again to send his magic out to reinforce the barrier.   Kaffas, if he could only see Bull he could possibly change the size of the barrier, decrease it in size and thicken the metaphysical walls, but any change he dared to make blind could potentially end up with some bit of Bull crushed beneath the weight of a mountainside.

Dorian was only vaguely aware of both Varric and Evie beginning to tear at the mud with their bare hands as he sent another pulse of magic through to the barrier.  Fumbling at his belt for a potion, he cursed when he realized he only had two potions left once he consumed this one, and considering how quickly he was running through mana…

Wincing slightly at the bitter taste of elfroot coating his tongue, Dorian refreshed the barrier yet again, torn between thickening the walls of the shield, which should let each cast last longer (but would require a greater amount of mana when he did have to cast), and simply maintaining the current barrier.  Perhaps he could try to set the next barrier just at the outer edges of the current one? He was uncertain about having a shower of dirt fall in on Bull but if he could slowly enlarge the barrier…a shiver coursed down Dorian’s spine as a new realization hit him.  The problem wasn’t actually the barrier but rather what was _inside_ the barrier.  Or the lack of it.

_Air_.  No matter how many potions Dorian forced down, no matter how many times he refreshed the barrier, even if he helped Varric and Evie dig, they would never be able to clear away the thick mud in time to prevent Bull from suffocating within a prison of Dorian’s own making.

This time he did hit his knees, refreshing the barrier by instinct as he felt his manifestation begin to shake even as his mind ran through enough spells to fill volumes.  Inferno, spirit, storm, winter, not one of them of any use to him at the moment.  He considered one of the handful of force spells he’d learned while at Alexius’s side, but any amount of force he applied that would help would also run the risk of breaking through his barrier and killing Bull instantly.

Kaffas, was this what it came down to?  Slow death by suffocation, or the bite of betrayal for the brief second between when Dorian’s barrier failed and every bone in Bull’s body was crushed beyond recognition?

“No…no, no, no, no, _no_ ,” Dorian was unaware of the fact he was even speaking aloud as his fingers curled into the wet ground beneath him. _He would not lose his lover like this_.  Refreshing the barrier again, Dorian felt some of his mana eking away in a different direction, his necromancy automatically seeking out the spirits who had been drawn to the fight earlier and for a moment Dorian wanted to scream.  Then, he wanted to laugh.  He was an idiot and he could only hope Bull would not pay the price for his stupidity.  The answer had been right there the entire time.

Swigging another potion, Dorian first strengthened the barrier once more then sent tendrils of magic out searching.  So much death here in the Graves, so many men hidden beneath dirt and root and moss, so many spirits to call upon that Dorian had to close his eyes and draw them to him in rows.  Spirit tin soldiers with only one mission, clear away the dirt and rock that threatened Bull.

“ _Sparkler._ ”

If Dorian had had the energy to spare he might have smirked at the tremor he heard in Varric’s voice, but each movement he made was one less bit of focus he had to summon yet another spirit.  Already so many had answered the call that his magic was laid out before him like a tapestry, tendrils woven in and out as spirits moved onto the mountain of mud and hauled away rocks and bushes and even smaller trees, yet others on their knees beside Varric and Evie scooping handfuls of mud out of the way and flinging it around the once pristine clearing.  And anchoring it all, Dorian’s connection with the barrier, the magic he routinely pulsed through to refresh it drawing the spirits ever closer like moths to torchlight.

When his fading strength forced him to drink the last potion Dorian dared to open his eyes, surprised by the sheer amount of ground that had been dispersed.  Not yet enough to see his barrier but he could almost swear he could hear it singing now.  Another strong push of mana and his ephemeral workers moved faster, the barrier sang louder…again and again he channeled his mana, forcing himself to ignore the fact that it was getting harder and harder to pull a fresh pool together until finally…

“We’ve got him, Dorian!”

He wasn’t certain why Evie had felt it necessary to yell, he could have told her they were through by the way the barrier sang so loud in his ears he wasn’t certain it would ever fade…

Dorian’s final thought before everything went black was that he couldn’t ever remember a barrier singing before.

 

Dorian woke up feeling like he’d been run over by a druffalo.   _Or trapped under a landslide,_ his mind helpfully reminded him.  Kaffas, Bull.  Eyes flying open Dorian attempted to sit up only to moan in pain as every muscle in his body protested the movement.

“Easy, Kadan.”

Despite the pain of moving, Dorian turned his head to find his lover balancing rather precariously on a tiny stool that looked like it had been meant for a child.  “Bull?”

“That’s right, Big Guy,” Bull grinned, the smile not erasing the concern in his eye or the furrow in his brow.

Dorian attempted to reach for his lover, still not certain he wasn’t hallucinating until Bull’s huge hand wrapped around his own hand, warmth suffusing him as Bull forced him to lower his arm.  “Hey, what do you say you just lay there ‘til the healer has a chance to look at you?”

“Me?   _You_ were the one buried under a mountain.”

Bull shuddered, his eye closing for a brief moment as he obviously remembered the experience.  “Yep, gotta say I’ve never been so happy to feel that tingle of magic against my skin as I was right then.”

“I wasn’t certain…I mean I had hoped, but…” Dorian swallowed hard, suppressing a shiver of his own.

Bull slid from the stool, his knees hitting the floor next to Dorian’s cot so hard that it made Dorian wince.  Reaching out to cup Dorian’s cheek with one hand Bull leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.  “You were amazing, Kadan,” Bull whispered against his skin before shifting back, his expression turning critical.  “Not that I’m happy you about killed yourself to save me.”

Dorian snorted.  “Please, I know my limits.”

Bull chuffed and shook his head slowly.  “Not your mana, you idiot, they pulled a fucking chunk of tree out of your side that was almost as big around as my wrist.  You’re lucky you didn’t bleed out before we got you here.”

“Injured…” Dorian muttered, his memory cluing in on the moment he’d been screaming Bull’s name and felt like his chest was going to explode.  Kaffas, he hadn’t even noticed.  “I didn’t realize…”

“Yeah, well apparently neither did the Boss or Varric, once you summoned an entire army of undead to help them out.”

“It was rather impressive…”

“It was foolish,” Bull rumbled.  “You could have _died_ , Dorian.”

It was then that Dorian saw it, the little tic at the corner of Bull’s mouth, the guilt and fear that hid behind frustration in his eye.  Squeezing Bull’s hand as hard as he could he tugged at the warrior.  “Come here,” he whispered, forcing his body to shift on the cot just enough to make room for larger man.

“Dorian, I can’t, you’re hurt.”

“So are you,” Dorian shot back, wanting to tell Bull that any amount of physical pain was better than seeing his lover struggle to hide the fear he’d felt for Dorian’s safety.

“Dorian…”

“Amatus…”

They stared at each other for several long moments, neither wanting to cause the other any further pain, until finally Dorian began to struggle to sit up again.  “Fine, if you won’t lie down with me here, I shall simply have to walk back to that ruin you call a room.”

Scowling once more, Bull finally caved, shifting his body until he occupied most of the cot and Dorian lay half sprawled across him.  The fact that it felt like he’d just been run over again by that same druffalo ceased to matter when Dorian felt Bull’s arms wrap tentatively around him, a long slow sigh falling from the warrior’s lips.

Pressing his own lips to Bull’s chest, Dorian whispered, “I’m here and I’m fine, Amatus.  Sleep.”

“The healers are gonna kill me,” Bull whispered tiredly against the top of Dorian’s head before placing a kiss on the same spot.

“That’s alright, Amatus…they’ll have to come through me to do it.”


	28. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull prompt Sunday? This is a little confusing but: Dorian is crumbling under pressure in Tevinter and accidentally "butt-dials" Bull (for lack of a better phrase) Bull isn't by his sending crystal at the time, but gets to his quarters only hear Dorian (who still doesn't know he called Bull) breaking down on the other end, and feels like the worst boyfriend in Thedas.

A faint buzzing noise stirred Bull from deep sleep, the first true rest he’d had in almost a week.  He and the Chargers had only arrived in Skyhold a few hours before, having rousted a group of Venatori and Red Templars in the Brecilian Forest over a week earlier.  After happily handing off their prisoners to Cullen, Bull barely remembered stumbling up to the room he still kept in the fortress and kicking his boots off before falling face first into the bed and passing out.  Before he could fully determine what was causing the noise it stopped, leaving Bull to sigh happily before sliding back into sleep.

The second time the buzzing noise started Bull climbed a little closer to consciousness, aware enough to acknowledge that the noise was probably coming from the sending crystal that allowed he and Dorian to remain in communication no matter the distance.  He knew he should probably answer, but fuck, sleep first then he’d try to reach Dorian when he was actually capable of forming sentences.

When the buzzing stopped only to start back up again a few moments later, Bull finally accepted that sleep wasn’t in his future.  Stretching his arm out to grab for the crystal currently resting on the bedside table, he sighed heavily as the piece slipped out of his grasp and scraped across the table before dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.

Shit.  Eye flying open, adrenaline rushing through him at the thought of damaging the crystal, Bull flung himself from the bed and searched the dark room for the now silent crystal.  Breathing a sigh of relief as his fingers curled around the pendant, he felt no damage to the piece, quickly pressing at the small piece of dawnstone nestled at the top of the pendant with the intention of calling Dorian back.

“...probably better you didn’t answer anyway.”  Dorian’s voice exploded into the quiet night and was accompanied by a heavy sigh.  “It’s not as if you could do anything about it from where you are anyway.  Kaffas, one would think I was a child instead of a grown adult, gone crying to his mother because the other kids weren’t…kind.”

There was no missing the loud sob that came through the crystal, the sound muffled as though Dorian’s hand was covering his mouth in an attempt to silence his cries.  Slumping back against the side of the bed, Bull held the crystal close, uncertain about whether he should reveal that the connection had actually been completed between them when Dorian obviously believed it had failed.

Another heavy sigh came through the crystal, accompanied by a sniffle and a mirthless chuckle.  “Venhedis, if only you could see me now Amatus, curled up into a pathetic ball around a pillow which is no substitute for your warm skin.  I know that by the time we see each other again, this will have blown over.  If Mae has her way, Magister Everens will be ostracized so firmly that not even the lowest house would dare allow him to set foot into their salon.  If I were a better man I suppose I would try to stop her, after all it’s not as if the man had spoken untruly even if his words hurt.  Then again, after a lifetime of Father’s disapproval I doubt that the man being disappointed in me for daring to love a Qunari would have registered more than an arched brow...which is why I don’t understand why Everens speaking of it has caused me such distress.

“I suppose it’s just that the whole thing is so fucking unfair, Amatus.  You are a hundred times the man Everens will ever be, and yet he is here and you are not. Kaffas, I am just so…damn…tired…”

Again the sound of tears came through the connection, the sobs this time softer and unblocked, as though Dorian had finally given up any hope of pretending normalcy.  Each once tore through Bull like a knife, his grip on the crystal so tight he knew he’d bear bruises come morning.  The single word fell from his lips unbidden.  “ _ Kadan _ .”

“ _ Bull _ ?  Fasta vass, how long have you been…I didn’t know you were…” 

“I’m sorry, Kadan,” Bull interrupted, not having to see his lover to know that Dorian would be scrubbing at his eyes, his tone already resuming its usual imperious state and hating that Dorian still felt a need to hide this part of himself after so long.  “Sorry I didn’t answer sooner, sorry I’m not there, mostly I’m sorry you had to deal with that assholE.”

“Yes, well, you know us Magisters, it’s not a party unless someone has been accused of being a disappointment to their family line.”

“Don’t do that, Kadan.  Don’t pretend it doesn’t matter…”

“But it  _ can’t _ matter, don’t you see?” Dorian hissed before Bull could finish.  “I can’t let them see that it matters, that  _ you  _ matter, or else you become a target. I won’t let that happen.  Kaffas, I should never have called.”

“No.” The word was a fiercely growled argument.  Bull could feel it now, could sense just how close Dorian was to disconnecting their crystals and then Koslun only knew when he’d hear from his lover again.  “Listen to me, Kadan.  You let them silence you, let them separate us, and they win.Those fucking assholes don’t deserve to win.”

A bark of dark laughter echoed from the crystal.  “Eloquent as always, Amatus.”

“You want eloquent?  I love you, Kadan, and if you’re beginning to doubt that I’ll happily ride through the center of Minrathous with the Chargers at my heels and proclaim it in the middle of the fucking Magisterium until you believe me.”

Another short laugh, this one distinctly lighter and accompanied by one of the snorts Dorian always denied.  “Kaffas, now wouldn’t that be a sight?  I’m fairly certain at least four Magisters would die of heart attacks the moment they heard a Qunari was at the gates.”

“So, what is it going to be, Kadan?  Do I need to round up the Chargers?  Gotta admit, we only got into Skyhold a few hours ago so…”

“No, you insane fool, don’t go disturbing them,” Dorian sighed, falling silent for several moments as Bull heard the rustling of sheets.  Dorian’s voice, when he finally spoke again, was soft and sleepy.  “Can you just talk to me, tell me why you’re in Skyhold?”

Bull cursed softly at the vulnerability he still heard in Dorian’s voice and wished for the thousandth time that actually marching on Minrathous was an option that would bring his lover anything but pain.  Still, Dorian hadn’t hung up, and he supposed for tonight that was accomplishment enough.  Bull sighed softly as he pushed up off the floor and settled himself in against the headboard.  He might not be able to hold his lover close, but this, this he could do.  “Well, it started when the Boss…”


	29. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I read some of your ABO ficlets and had a plot bunny I thought I'd throw at you. ABO AU where Qunari tend to have, like, litters - minimum twins. Accidental Adoribull pregnancy. Neither Dorian or Bull think this is going to be an issue (humans go one or two at a time, it'll never happen) until they find out Dorian has, like, three or four babies in there, and at least one is gonna have horns. (happy ending? but maybe some serious panic because BIG babies... and then happy daddies w babies)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: As you can probably gather from the prompt this one contains both A/B/O dynamics and mpreg...and also enough fluff to guarantee tooth decay! Enjoy!

“Wait, what was that?”

“’Ze babies, Messere.  There are certainly three of ‘zem, perhaps four, it is…”

“Out!” Dorian roared, struggling to sit up on the bed and slapping at Bull’s hand when he reached out to help him.  Glaring at his lover, Dorian pointed towards the door, “You too, both of you… _ out _ !”

Dorian watched as Bull’s eye went all soft and understanding which only served to piss him off more, lightning crackling in his palms as he all but pushed the healer and his lover out of the room before bolting the door behind them.

Dorian leaned against the door, one hand on his stomach that he could no longer deny had turned into a distinct bump, as he slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his knees bent in front of him.  Three…or four.  Of course he had known it was a possibility, Adaar had certainly teased them about the fact that qunari tended to have multiples when Dorian and Bull had first bonded.  Something about it being more efficient considering the low numbers of omegas among the qunari, but when he had questioned Bull later his Alpha had assured him that Adaar was exaggerating. 

Tears sprung to his eyes.  Kaffas, as shocking as it had been to learn that he was pregnant after his first heat since mating, he had thought he might manage one or two.  Had believed that even with his lack of actual experience with children and the fact that his own father had treated him like a doll to be pulled out at dinner parties and expected to do parlour tricks, he and Bull could handle a single child.  After all, how hard could one child be to raise with two parents who actually  _ cared  _ about its upbringing.

It was Bull who had convinced him that even twins would be manageable.  His Alpha had even gone so far as to insist that Adaar promise she wouldn’t assign Bull to any missions outside of Skyhold for the first six months after birth.  There were two of them, Bull had grinned, pulling Dorian close and pressing a kiss to his forehead, certainly they could handle two small babies between them.

But three, or venhedis, possibly four, he and Bull would be outnumbered from the first moment.  Dorian’s second hand slipped down to join the first as if by covering his bump he could protect the children within from their father’s distraught thoughts.  It wasn’t as though he didn’t want them, Dorian thought fiercely as tears coursed down his cheeks, it was just that he wanted so badly not to fail them. 

Leaning his head back against the door, Dorian closed his eyes and gave in to the tears that had been threatening.  Struggling to draw air into his lungs, Dorian swore softly.  Kaffas, he wasn’t even half way through his pregnancy and already he was panicking, what had he been thinking agreeing to mate with Bull?  What had made him think he could possibly…

“Kadan…”

Dorian’s head snapped up so fast he almost clipped Bull in the jaw.  Fuck, how screwed up did he have to be to not have smelled his mate entering the room?  Scowling up at his Alpha, Dorian growled, “How did you get in here?”

Bull had the decency to bite his lip to stop his laughter but Dorian saw the twinkle in his eye anyway.  “If you really want to lock me out you might try locking all the doors, Kadan.”

Dorian just stared at Bull for a moment, tears once again threatening to fall.  Fuck, he hadn’t even thought about the other doors.  At this rate he’d lose the children the moment they began to crawl.  Not to mention the fact that one of those doors led straight into a  _ bar _ .  What did that say about them?

Dorian startled as Bull’s palms cradled his cheeks, his Alpha’s head moving closer until he could rest his forehead against Dorian’s.  “Just what’s going through your mind, Omega?”

Drawing in hitched breath, Dorian whispered, “We live in a tavern.”

Bull chuckle this time was impossible to hide.   “Oh, Kadan…”

Dorian scowled, shoving at Bull as he attempted to stand.  “Stop it.  I know that sound, that’s the ‘Dorian is being unreasonable’ tone,” Dorian growled as he finally got his feet under him and began to pace.  “But it’s not unreasonable to expect a home for our…our  _ litter _ .  Kaffas, Bull, I’m going to give birth to an entire  _ squad _ of young and I don’t even have a place to put them all.  I suppose you just think we can drop them into an empty ale barrel and that will be that but it’s not, Bull.  And what if they all start crying at the same time, and diaper changes, kaffas, who is going to wash all those diapers?  I don’t even wash my own robes most of the time.  Not to mention feeding them, how am I supposed to…”

Dorian broke off as he slammed into a wall of warm skin, his Alpha’s arms rising to curl around him as Bull’s hand tucked Dorian’s head against his neck.  “Shhhhhh, Kadan, it will all be alright.  I promise…”

“How can you…” Dorian growled, pausing to draw in a breath and pulling in the reassuring scent of fresh turned soil and citrus blossoms.  Shuddering as his muscles loosened, Dorian buried his nose into Bull’s neck, his eyes drifting closed as he allowed his mate’s presence to calm him.  One huge hand spread almost the width of his back, stroking gently up and down as Bull’s other hand curled possessively around Dorian’s hip.

Bull rubbed his cheek against the top of Dorian’s head, the move such a blatant attempt of an Alpha to mark his mate that it always made Dorian smirk.  “I’m already yours you know…you don’t need to do that.”

Dorian felt Bull’s satisfied purr.  “There will  _ always _ be a reason, Kadan.  Gotta make sure people know you’re mine,” Bull whispered, his hand shifting off Dorian’s hip to rest over the soft swell of his belly.  “That you’re  _ all  _ mine.”

“Sap,” Dorian snorted, gasping when a moment later he found himself swept off his feet into Bull’s arms.

Bull bent his head to drop a kiss on Dorian’s parted lips.  “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Kadan.  Apparently my Omega doubts my devotion to making him happy.”

“Bull…” Dorian sighed, the sound turning to a soft moan as Bull lowered him to the bed and stroked his hand up the inside of Dorian’s thigh.  “This isn’t going to solve anything.”

Bull slid onto the bed, stretching out along Dorian’s side and reaching up to cup his cheek.  “When are you going to learn that I’ll do anything for you?  Which means that tomorrow I’ll be talking to Josie about getting us some real quarters in the tower.  Followed by a trip to the stables to see if Blackwall would be willing to turn that skill he has with woodworking towards making some cradles.  But for now,” Bull purred, his words interrupted as he dipped down to place a kiss to Dorian’s forehead, then the tip of his nose before pressing a chaste kiss to his lip.  “…it means kissing every inch of my mate’s skin until he remembers how much he is loved and that we are in this together.”

Smiling softly, Dorian ran his hand lazily up Bull’s spine, letting his fears be soothed by his lover’s words.  “Together.”


	30. Dead Ends and Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belated Adoribull prompt: Bull is a police officer, Dorian stumbles into the police station panic, naked and covered in blood. Bring in the angst and the fluff!!!'

Bull sighed as he watched the light change just as he reached the corner, the flashing pedestrian with a line across it taunting him as it blinked slowly.  Tempted, as he usually was this time of night, to just walk across anyway Bull kept his feet planted, stretching his arms up over his head and twisting until his back cracked like a bowl of Rice Krispies.  Fuck, maybe Krem was right and he was getting too old for this walking a beat shit, but what other options did he have?  Ride a desk?  Break in a new partner?  He’d tried the whole detective thing, he wasn’t cut out for that shit like Krem was.

Lowering his arms as the light changed, Bull quickly crossed the street and stuck his head in the door of the liquor store on the corner.  “Everything alright tonight, Cole?”

The young man’s head popped up from the book he’d been looking at.  “When is it not, Officer Bull?”

“Just checking before I head in for the night.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I would hope so, Officer Bull.”

Bull smiled and shook his head, continuing his path toward the station house as he wondered, like he did every night, just where Varric had found Cole.  The man was unerringly polite, but always seemed just a little off, and no matter how many times he told the kid to just call him Bull it was always ‘Officer Bull’.

Plucking a can off the sidewalk, Bull tossed it into the garbage can sitting two feet away, taking a minute to enjoy the quiet that only came over Skyhold in that little window between the bars closing at two and the first restaurants beginning their day around four.  Bull knew Krem thought he was crazy to keep choosing this shift, but after so many years in the madhouse that was Seheron, Bull enjoyed the quiet the night had to offer.

As if to mock his thoughts, Bull hadn’t take three steps before a cry shattered the silence, the sound quickly muffled even as Bull picked up his pace.  Dropping his hand to the butt of his gun, thumbing the break as he slipped closer to the building next to the alleyway Bull thought the sound had come from.  Giving himself a slow count to three, Bull cursed his horns, not for the first time, as he twisted his head for a quick peek down the alley before retreating back to the protection of the building.

Shit.  He’d seen at least four assailants, two of them holding the vic between them and all of them too damn close for him to dare key his mic and call dispatch.

The distinct crack of a rib snapping had Bull wincing even as one of the assailants growled, “One down, twenty three to go…”

Another three count, this one far faster and accompanied by a deep breath and Bull was pulling his pistol out, fingers curling around the grip as his arms locked, the weapon still aimed at the ground as he took a step into the alley and called out, “Police.  Stop right there.”

Unsurprisingly, all four took off running for the other end of the alley, the man they’d been beating dropping to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut even as Bull finally keyed his mic and called dispatch.  By the time he reached the vic, dispatch already had a car and an ambulance headed his way.  That was good because it meant Sera didn’t have to hear Bull curse when he got close enough to the victim to realize he was completely naked and covered with blood.

Shit.  Dropping to his knees, Bull pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket, snapping the latex on before feeling at the man’s throat, sighing softly when he caught a pulse only to startle a second later when a hand wrapped around his wrist and he found himself staring down into a pair of panicked silver eyes.  “Hey buddy, it’s ok, I’m one of the good guys,” Bull said with a grin, watching the man’s eyes narrow.  Reaching for his badge, he held it up for the man to see.  “No, really.”

“Officer Bull,” the man scoffed, his voice barely above a whisper and rocky as tumbled glass from the choking he’d suffered, livid purple and red bruises already setting into the tan skin of his throat.

“That’s me, Bull Ashkaari at your service,” Bull agreed with a nod, slipping his badge back onto his belt.  “Can you tell me your name?”

“Dorian…Dorian Pavus,” the man croaked, attempting to sit up only to sag back to the ground with a deep groan.

“Yeah, might not want to move, Dorian.  I know the pavement probably feels like shit but I don’t need you passing out on me before the ambulance gets here…”

The man exploded into action, surging upright, the hand still curled around Bull’s wrist tightening as his other one grabbed for Bull’s uniform.  “No…no hospital…can’t…”

“Whoa, calm down, ok?” Bull whispered soothingly, his hand settling over the one Dorian had clenched in his uniform.  “It’s going to be ok, I promise, but shit, you’ve gotta go to the hospital.”

Dorian dropped back against the pavement with a thud that drew a wince from Bull, the man’s eyes drifting shut for a moment before flying back open and pinning Bull with a stare.  “Can’t…they’ll…kill…find me…please.”

Bull frowned, his eye darting from Dorian to the surrounding area to take in a pile of clothes he assumed belonged to Dorian and a slim leather briefcase, the lock of which had been jimmied open, loose papers scattered.  Returning his attention to Dorian, Bull growled, “You saying this wasn’t just a mugging?  You knew the guys who did this?”

Dorian drew in a wet, wheezy breath, his eyes drooping shut again.  Bull’s mind told him that wasn’t a good sign.  Tapping gently at the hand he still held, Bull growled, “Hey, Dorian, you still with me?”

Bull cursed as the hand he was holding went limp beneath him, Dorian’s other hand sliding off his wrist to land on the man’s naked hip.  Only the slight rise and fall of Dorian’s chest gave any indication the man was still alive and Bull gave a silent thanks as he watched flashing lights appear and turn towards him.  

Those thanks were doubled when Bull watched Skinner leap out of the truck, her bag clutched tightly in her hand.  By the time the elf reached the back of the ambulance, Dalish had come around the other side of the truck, both women scowling as they took in their patient.

“Shit am I glad it’s you two,” Bull admitted with a sigh, surprised to find that stepping away from Dorian so that Dalish could take his place was far more difficult than it should have been.  There was just something about the man, some hint of vulnerability that had absolutely nothing to do with his current naked state and everything to do with the way he’d clung to Bull even as his silver eyes had challenged him.

Straightening, Bull glanced at Skinner as Dalish slipped her hands into a pair of latex gloves.  “Found him getting his ass kicked by four assailants.  Bastards took off the minute I called out.”

Skinner arched one brow.  “Sex for hire gone wrong?”

Fuck, Bull hadn’t even thought about that.  Before he could speak, Dalish was frowning up at the pair of them.  “He a mage, got so much magebane running through him I’m surprised he’s still breathing.  I’m gonna need the crystal grace out of the truck…”

Bull scowled as he watched Skinner trot off to grab the potion.  “He gonna be ok?”

“Honestly, I couldn’t say right now.  Got one, maybe two broken ribs, from the sounds of it maybe a punctured lung.  Laying in an alley isn’t going to help those cuts any, gonna have to get some antibiotics into him, uncertain how bad the throat is, but those bruises are daunting.  Bruising over his hip could mean his kidneys are compromised, the magebane will interfere with any healing a potion could possibly do.  Only good news is if this was some sex thing, it looks like you got here before they had a chance to take it that far.”

Skinner dropped to her knees beside Dalish, uncapping the potion the mage had requested and Bull took a couple steps back, pulling off his gloves that had been contaminated with Dorian’s blood and dropping them against the wall, away from any possible evidence, before pulling out his phone.

After a couple rings, Bull was greeted with a mumbled, ‘lo?”

“Krem Puff!”

“I’m sleepin’, Chief…”

“Ah, sleep is for the weak,” Bull chuckled, watching as the pair in front of him systematically discovered all of Dorian’s wounds.  Pulling on a fresh set of gloves, Bull crouched next to the pile of Dorian’s clothes as he listened to Krem attempt to slap himself awake.

Bull heard running water and a sharp gasp then Krem was demanding, “What in Andraste’s sweet ass has you calling me at four am?”

“Got a case, Krem,” Bull started, plucking Dorian’s pants from the pile and pulling out a battered leather wallet.  The id inside matched the name Dorian had given him, the address only a few blocks away.  Other than the id there were only a few bills and a scrap of paper with a local number.

“So throw ‘em in the drunk tank and sort it out tomorrow.”

“Not that sort of case, Krem.  An assault, four guys beat the crap out of someone and the vic seems convinced they’re going to come back and finish the job.”  Bull pulled out his phone and took a pic of the number on the paper then slipped it back next to the bills and put the wallet back in the pant’s pocket.

“So, call dispatch and get a guard assigned.”

“They almost killed him Krem…poured enough magebane down his throat Dalish said…”

“Wait, wait, wait, _Dalish_ is there?”

“Yeah, she and Skinner caught the call.  They’re loading him in the truck now and I…”

Krem’s heavy sigh echoed in Bull’s ear.  “Don’t do this Chief, it never ends well…”

Bull snorted.  “Not doin’ anything, Kremsicle.  I just didn’t have time to get a statement before…”

“You can’t keep picking up strays, Chief.  He’s a man, not a puppy…”

“Krem….” Bull growled, wincing as he watched the pair in front of him pick up Dorian and settle him onto the gurney.

“Fuck,” Krem hissed back.  “I’m in the car already, be there in three.”

 

 

“You’re a sap.”

Bull scowled, shifting his position next to Dorian so he could free his hand from under the mage’s.  “Just making sure he knows he’s not alone.”

“Like I said…” Krem chuckled, pushing off the doorframe he’d been leaning against to step fully into Dorian’s hospital room.  Nodding his head toward the bed, Krem continued, “You know who he is?”

Bull shrugged.  “Told me his name was Dorian Pavus.”

“And that name didn’t mean anything to you?”

Bull ran his hand tiredly over his face, sighing heavily before answering.  “You got something to say Krem Puff, say it.”

Krem stepped close enough to the bed that he could curl his hands around the footboard, his attention on the man occupying the bed rather than on Bull.  “It was big news when Pavus defected from Tevinter.  His family has always been some of the most influential Altus within the Magisterium.  Then Dorian here had a falling out with his father and ended up following his mentor to Ferelden despite the fact that the pair of them had been neck deep in some top secret government research.

“Grim’s still running a check on your boy, but he’d gotten a half dozen hits before I could even get from the station to here.  Seems he’s wanted by not only the Ferelden secret police and several of Tevinter’s intelligence agencies but also his father has offered a substantial reward for information on his whereabouts.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly,” Krem said, fingers tightening to a white-knuckled grip on the bed as he turned his attention toward Bull.  “Pavus isn’t your typical hard-luck case, Chief.  Might be better for everyone involved if…”

A low moan from the man in question drew both men’s attention to the mage whose alert grey eyes were darting from point to point in the room before finally landing on Bull, who found himself thankful for the fact that the mage was still suffering the effects of the magebane.  That might make him an asshole, but he was afraid if Dorian had access to his magic right now Bull would be nothing but a smoldering pile of ash in the corner of the room.

Dorian began to speak only to break off immediately as no sound came from his abused vocal cords.  Swallowing hard, he tried again and ended up scowling pointedly at Bull as he raised his hands and gestured around the room.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you said no hospitals,” Bull answered Dorian’s unspoken question with a little shrug.

“Why’d he say no hospitals?” Krem’s words were sharp, his attention shifting rapidly from Bull to Dorian and back again.  Bull opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by the shrill ringing of Krem’s phone.  Giving Bull a hard look, Krem answered, “’lo?...What?...Shit.  Yeah, I hear ya….Where the fuck do you think I am?...Copy, employee entrance, we’ll be there in five...shit, make it four minutes.”

Bull had known halfway through the one-sided conversation that something was wrong, had known it was probably entirely fucked when Krem had stormed to the door and cautiously stuck his head out in the hallway, checking both directions before closing the door.

Krem hung up the phone with a muttered curse, crossing the room in only a couple long steps before grasping Dorian’s chin in his hand.  “We’re out of time and you’re short on choices.  Choice one, you stay here and whoever the fuck it is that’s after you finds you, choice two you come with us and we try to get you out of this place alive.”

Bull growled softly, watching fear bloom in those expressive eyes of Dorian’s only to be replaced a moment later by firm resolve.  With a sharp nod, Dorian began fumbling at the tubes and lines holding him hostage to the bed and in an instant, Bull was disconnecting the various pieces as quickly as possible.  “What have we got, Krem?”

Krem was rustling through the small closet in the room, scowling when all he found was a second blanket but grabbing it all the same and hurrying to drape it across Dorian’s shoulders.  “When I got the call from Grim I placed one to Rocky.  Had him watching the entrances and he saw a four man team step in two minutes ago...” Krem broke off and hurried to the door, again poking his head out before motioning Bull to join him.  “That means we’ve got about a minute and a half to get the fuck out of here before they reach the floor, less if they took the stairs.”

“Fuck,” Bull growled, scooping Dorian up as gently as possible considering there was no good spot to touch the man and hurrying to follow Krem out into the hall.

Thankful that it was still early enough that they didn’t run into anyone, Krem led the pair of them down the hallway in the opposite direction of the nurse’s station then opened a door leading to a back stairwell.  A quick check to make sure they were alone and the three made quick work of the two flights to the main level where Krem paused before opening the door.  “Ok, employee entrance is to your right about twenty feet.  There’s always one security guard on shift so you’re just going to have to hope he’s not trigger happy.  Rocky should be waiting for you.”

“For us, you mean for us, right, Krem?”

Krem snorted.  “Someone’s gotta take care of the security feeds before they think to check ‘em, Chief.  Besides, I’ll do you two more good in the department instead of on suspension.”

“Shit,” Bull sighed, rolling his eyes slightly at himself.  “I didn’t mean to fuck this up for you, Krem.”

Krem grinned and slapped Bull on the shoulder.  “Fuck that shit, Chief.  Most fun I’ve had in years.  Now, go…”

Bull gave Krem a long hard look then nodded and pulled the blanket up over Dorian’s head before stepping out into the hallway.  Bull wasn’t sure what it said that the first two people they passed didn’t even lift their heads up from studying their phones.  Keeping his steps slow and relaxed, Bull tried to shift slightly as he reached the security station, hoping perhaps their luck would hold, and it might have if someone hadn’t walked through the door right in front of them that _was_ actually paying attention.

The man took in the sight of Bull carrying what looked like a pile of blankets with feet, his expression flitting from surprise to confusion right into concern.  “Hey, what are you… _security!_ ”

Bull barely registered the scuffing noise coming from his left as he tucking his head and basically ran towards the man blocking the door.  Apparently two feet of qunari horn was enough to convince the man he wasn’t going to win and Bull went barreling out the still open doors and right into the back seat of the car Rocky was holding the door open on.

The door slammed shut almost on his foot then Rocky was throwing himself into the driver’s seat.  “Hey Chief, might want to hang on,” Rocky said with a manic grin into the rearview mirror.  “Gotta get out of here before they raise the bollards.”

Bull braced his leg against the back of the front seat, stabilizing his body as he laid stretched out on the back seat, his arms curling tightly around Dorian.  Feeling a light tapping against his chest, Bull looked down to find the mage scowling up at him, tipping his head slightly to the side and raising his eyebrows the moment his eyes caught Bull’s.

“You’re kinda cute when you’re pissed,” the words were out of Bull’s mouth before he could think twice about it, the loud scoffing laugh from the front seat telling him Rocky had heard every word.

As for Dorian, his eyes just narrowed until Bull could barely see a hint of that sea-washed grey as Dorian smacked Bull upside the head and attempted to sit up.  Bull was forced to let go of Dorian with one hand as Rocky took a turn at full speed, Bull’s hand joining his leg in bracing them against the seat.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Rocky called out cheerfully.  “Good news is we’re off the lot.  Highway's coming up and we should be clear.”

Bull chuckled when Dorian stuck his tongue out at Bull before pushing off his chest and settling primly onto the bench seat as far away from Bull as he could get.  Dorian reached out, clasping Rocky on the shoulder and waiting until the dwarf spared him a glance to mouth what looked like thank you.

“Shit, no thanks necessary,” Rocky chuckled in response, his eyes going back to the road.  “I owe the Chief more than one quick getaway.”

“Yeah, thought you were out of the getaway business, Rocky,” Bull chuckled, having to duck slightly as he sat up to keep his horns from going through the roof liner.

Rocky cast a guilty glance at Bull through the rearview mirror.  “Yeah, well, a man has to keep his skills sharp, never know when you’re gonna need ‘em.”

Bull chuckled and shook his head, glancing at Dorian only to find the man regarding him curiously.  “Rocky here used to be part of a group that…well, shall we say used to liberate the rich from belongings they didn’t have a true need for.”

“Oh, don’t worry Magister,” Rocky chuckled as he caught sight of Dorian’s frown.  “Never been as far north as Tevinter so you and I haven’t met.  Least wise, not before now.”

Dorian’s eyes rolled, the mage’s hand shifting to his throat as he tried to speak.  Bull leaned closer heard a soft ‘feel free to take it all’ that had Bull laughing loudly.

It was Rocky’s turn to frown as he put on his blinker and shifted over into the exit lane.  “What’d I miss, Chief?”

“Tell…him…” Dorian whispered next to him.

“Shit, I will if you promise to stop talking,” Bull agreed, ignoring Dorian’s glare and filling Rocky in on the mage’s comments before actually noticing they were leaving Skyhold behind them.  “Rocky, where are we headed?”

“Gee, Chief, I don’t know.  You picked up a stray with some lethal followers, should I have just taken you home?”

“Shit, no, you’re right, it’s just…”

“Sit back and relax, Grim’s got a place the two of you can crash while we try to figure out just who the hell wants your boy dead.”

“Your…boy?” Dorian queried.

“What’d I say about talking?” Bull chided, sliding over to the middle of the bench seat and taking a hold of Dorian’s chin, lifting it slightly so he could judge the bruising for himself.  “Listen, you’re in no condition to go off on your own and even if you were, I didn’t save your life so someone else could take pot shots at you.  If Grim says he’s got someplace secure then you can bet it’s someplace no one will find.”

“What about…” Dorian’s voice broke, making the mage scowl, as he reached for Bull’s waist and tapped at his badge.

“Awww, Krem will clear it with the Captain.  Trust me, Krem won’t stop til he’s unraveled this mess you’ve managed to get yourself into.”

“Why?” The word was mouthed more than spoken aloud.

The absolute confusion Bull read in Dorian’s eyes tugged at his heart even though something in him knew Dorian wouldn’t appreciate his…sympathy?  Pity?  Predilection for taking in strays?  Shrugging, Bull settled for the safe answer.  “It’s what I signed on for when I put on the badge.”

Dorian opened his mouth to speak again only to find Bull’s finger laid across his lips.  “Let it go for now, Dorian.  Get some rest and you can interrogate me later.”

The mage snorted and turned away so he could look out the window, one hand wrapped around his waist in a way that made Bull think his ribs were probably bothering him.  Fuck, _everything_ should be bothering the man but at least he was still breathing.  Smiling at his own thoughts, Bull decided rest might not be such a bad idea.

 

 

Bull startled awake when the back door opened, his fist less than an inch away from the intruder’s face when he realized it was Rocky he was about to punch.  Letting his hand drop heavily into his lap he gave the dwarf a sheepish grin.  “Sorry.”

Rocky just shook his head and nodded towards the front of the car.  “We’re here.”

Bull followed Rocky’s attention and found that they were parked in front of a small log cabin, a porch running all the way along the front of it and topped with a green tin roof.  “Cute,” Bull muttered as he turned to Dorian and nudged the man’s shoulder.  “Hey, wake up…”

Apparently Dorian was capable of impressive scowls even in his sleep, Bull’s nudging just encouraging the man to twist the other direction and lean his head against the window. Shaking his head, Bull climbed out of the car and walked around to Dorian’s side, managing to get the mage out of the car and into his arms without him doing more than burrowing into Bull’s chest.

Rocky hurried ahead of them, plucking a key from under the mat, and yeah, Bull was gonna have words with Grim over _that_ little safety violation.  But for now, Rocky had the door open and Bull stepped in to find a single large room containing a sofa and small wooden table with four chairs.  The kitchen ran down one side of the cabin and there were two doors along the back wall.  The door on the right was open and obviously led to a bathroom which left the door on the left for Bull to nod at Rocky to open.

Thankfully, a small bedroom came into view and Bull wasted no time carrying Dorian through and arranging him as gently as possible on the full size bed.  The moment he released Dorian the mage whimpered, his hand shifting restlessly against the sheet as Bull reached for the extra blanket laying across the bottom of the bed and wrapped it tightly around the mage.  Brushing the hair away from Dorian’s face, Bull turned to find Rocky smirking at him.  “What?”

“Nothin’, just awful domestic all of a sudden aren’t ya, chief?”

Bull shoved Rocky out of the way, leaving the door half open as he stepped out of the room so he’d be able to hear it if Dorian called out.  “The man was beaten half to death last night, Rocky.  Nothing wrong with being kind.”

Rocky snorted and dropped onto the couch.  “Pretty sure that’s what you said to Krem when you took me in all those years ago.”

Bull followed Rocky down onto the couch and nudged the dwarf in the side.  “Naw, told Krem you were too pretty to die.”

Rocky froze, his head slowly turning to stare at Bull.  “That’s just disturbing.”

“Awwww, come on Rocks, you know it’s always been you,” Bull grinned with a sing-song voice, batting his one eye at the dwarf.

Rocky shoved at Bull’s shoulder with both hands to get the qunari to move an inch.  “Stop that you bastard or I’ll leave you here without bothering to go get you supplies.”

“Alright, alright,” Bull chuckled.  “Just make sure to get me some first aid shit too.  His ribs are gonna need to be bandaged and I’d feel better if I had some antibiotic cream for him.”

“Fuck, you’re worse than a mother hen,” Rocky grunted, pushing off the couch and shaking his head.  He took two steps towards the door before he turned back around and held out his hand.  “Oh, and gimme your phone.  Krem says it’s a burner or nothing for now.  I’ll bring you one back.”

Bull slipped his phone out of his pocket reluctantly.  Krem was right, but shit, it bothered him to be out in the middle of nowhere with no transport and only his service piece for defense.  Standing to follow Rocky to the door, he almost ran over the dwarf when he came to a stop with his hand reaching for the door handle.  “Oh, and Grim said you might be interested in looking under the kitchen sink.”

Bull grinned, his mood lightening as Rocky shook his head and headed out the door.  Waving his hand over his head at Bull the dwarf muttered, “Don’t know, don’t want to know.”

Bull’s grin turned into a full blown laugh as he closed and locked the door behind Rocky then hurried across the room to open the cabinet below the sink.  Finding only a bag of trash bags and a bottle of soap, Bull frowned and tapped at the back wall then the bottom of the cabinet.  The hollow sound he got when he hit the base of the cabinet had a smile creeping back up Bull’s face and when he found the hidden latch and tapped it only to have a drawer spring out, Bull couldn’t help but think that Satinalia had come early.

“Grim, you shouldn’t have,” he whispered as he picked up the first handgun, cocking the slide to make certain there was a round in the chamber before checking the clip also.  Once he’d checked all three semi-autos, Bull moved to assemble the takedown .22 rifle, pleased to see the pieces slid together easily, every bit of the weapon oiled and ready, including the silencer.  Now _this_ was more like it.

Bull had just finished secreting away Grim’s stash of weapons in various spots that would keep him from being surprised without one when a hoarse cry echoed through the room, followed almost immediately by brutal coughing.  Bull hurried to fill a glass with some water from the tap and then rushed to Dorian’s room.

The mage was sitting up in bed, panic evident on the man’s face until Bull stepped into the room.  The change was instantaneous as the mage slumped against the bed, his eyes drifting shut.  “Kaffas, I wasn’t certain…”

“Not sure what it says about me that you think I’d take you off into the woods and abandon you,” Bull admitted, closing the distance between them and holding the glass out to Dorian, only to change his mind when he saw how badly Dorian’s hand was shaking and bring the glass to Dorian’s lip himself.  “Here, drink slowly.”

Both men fell silent as Dorian slowly drank about half the glass before shifting away and leaning his head back against the headboard.  “Thank you.”

“You know your throat would heal faster if you’d stop talking,” Bull muttered, reaching out to set the glass down on the nightstand.

Dorian snorted.  “Obviously you don’t know me.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda getting that stubborn might be your middle name,” Bull chuckled.

“Funny, I’m starting to think it’s trouble,” Dorian whispered, a small grin teasing at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, that too.  You feel up to telling me why half the agencies between here and Tevinter are interested in you?”

Dorian sighed and tapped his head.  “Know things…things people don’t want getting out.”

“Krem said something about you being a researcher?”

Dorian nodded.  “Time.  Alexius and I study time.  So close to solving problem and didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”

Bull frowned.  “But if they want your information, why would they try to kill you?”

Dorian laughed, hoarse and brittle.  “Fools.  Believe it’s all Alexius.  Thought if they killed me…”

“Alexius would fall into line?  But you’re saying it’s not him…”

Dorian just smiled and tapped at his temple again.  Bull sighed.  “So, genius, what do we have to do to get these bastards off your back?”

“Not going to happen.  Too important.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t save your ass just to accept that I’ve only postponed the inevitable,” Bull grumbled, his mind already working on getting Rocky to see if Krem… “Yes!!”

Dorian startled as Bull’s scream echoed through the room, his hand punching up into the air as he realized what they needed to do.  Bull didn’t even think before leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss against Dorian’s lips before standing and beginning to pace.  “You may be the genius but I’m the one that can fix this.  Well, technically I know people who can fix this.  We just need Rocky.  Shit, how long’s he been gone for anyway?  No worries.  When he gets here with the burner phone I’ll call Krem and we’ll get the ball rolling…”

Bull’s monologue was interrupted when Dorian slammed the water glass down on the bedside table several times, just long enough to pull Bull’s attention back to him as he asked, “What?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought it would be obvious…we’re gonna kill you.”

 

 

“Silver for your thoughts.”

Bull smiled as Dorian whispered in his ear, the mage’s arms wrapping tightly around his waist.  “Now I _know_ you’re rich, it’s supposed to be a copper.”

“Your thoughts are always worth more than that,” Dorian assured him, pressing a kiss against the side of his neck.

“Just remembering the look on your face that day in the cabin, when I told you we were going to kill you,” Bull admitted with a chuckle, quick to curl his hands around Dorian’s wrists before the mage could move away.

Even with his wrists secured, Dorian managed to slap at Bull’s belly.  “You asshole, I seriously thought you were going to kill me.”

Bull released one of Dorian’s hands so he could spin around and curl his own hand around his lover’s waist.  “Couldn’t have done that, pretty sure I was already halfway in love with you by then.”

Dorian rolled his eyes.  “You and your strays.”

“Hey, it worked out for me this time,” Bull chuckled, stealing a quick kiss.

Ok, so it had cost him his job on the force, but that was only because by the time Rocky was done setting up Dorian’s new identity Bull hadn’t been able to let the mage walk out of his life.  So, to the world Dorian Pavus died of complications caused by the assault in the alleyway, his body cremated ‘accidently’ only hours before Halward Pavus swept into the hospital demanding to see his son’s remains.

It hadn’t sat well with Bull that the Magister had arrived in Skyhold so quickly, but Bull saw no point in tarnishing Dorian’s already shaky opinion of his father further.  Bull and Dorian had been in Rivain when the news announced that Gereon Alexius had decided to return to Tevinter, and though there had been plenty of footage of the Archon himself greeting Alexius at the airport no one had heard from him since.

Bull’s thoughts were pulled from the past back to the present by Dorian’s hand curling around his horn, the mage raising up on his toes even as he pulled Bull’s head down for another, much more thorough kiss.  When the need for air finally forced them apart, Bull grinned down at his lover.  “What was that for?”

“Just remembering that I never said thank you.”

“I assure you, Kadan.  The pleasure was all mine.”


	31. Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I was the anon asking about prompts and etiquette! My prompt is Dorian fed up with Bull's playful wrestling, finds Bull's secret ticklish spots and exploits them. Tickle war ensues. >:). Ty! Big fan!!

“Do-ri-an.”

Dorian’s lip twitched just the slightest at Bull’s sing-song voice, but he refused to drop the book he was reading, even when Bull’s fingers began to creep up his calf. They were currently laying facing each other, Dorian’s back braced against the footboard so he could take advantage of the firelight to read while Bull reclined against the headboard.  The former spy had been working on some sort of paperwork until about ten minutes ago when he’d decided annoying Dorian could be more entertaining.

“Come on, Kadan,” Bull pouted, the tone alone enough to have Dorian dropping his book just far enough that he could peek over the top edge and see that, sure enough, his lover’s lips had pulled into a moue that should have looked far more ridiculous than it actually did.  

With a long-suffering sigh, Dorian laid his book down next to him.  “You are incorrigible.”

“If by ‘incorrigible’ you mean devastatingly distracting and sexy, then yes,” Bull grinned, his fingers continuing their slow slide up Dorian’s legs.

“No, I mean impatient…impossible…attention seek...ahhhh!”  Dorian’s words were broke off when Bull yanked Dorian suddenly down the bed and into his lap.

“I’ll show you impatient,” Bull rumbled, bending to press a kiss to Dorian’s lips only to find himself kissing air when Dorian flung himself to the side, rolling off the edge of the bed before springing to his feet.

“Maybe I should add slow to that list,” Dorian taunted, dashing around the foot of the bed as Bull flung himself from the bed in pursuit.

The problem with living in a single room is that it didn’t provide much room for escape, a fact Dorian soon discovered when Bull caught him around the waist and spun him in a circle, dropping them both to the rug beneath their feet and pinning Dorian down by kneeling on either side of his hips.  

“Yield?” Bull laughed, ignoring the way Dorian bucked against him.

“Never,” Dorian scowled, his hands scrambling to find purchase against the rug just as Bull’s eye narrowed with a dangerous twinkle, his fingers wiggling ever closer to Dorian’s ribs.  “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Oh really?  But I thought I was…what was it?....Impossible?...Impatient….Incorrigible?”  Bull punctuated each word with a lightning quick attack of nimble fingers against exposed ribs that left Dorian laughing uncontrollably as he attempted to grab ahold of the offending digits.

“Ass…hole,” Dorian gasped out inbetween attacks, his hands flailing as he tried to push Bull off him only to accidently draw his nails down the soft flesh that stretched across the hollow of Bull’s hip.

Bull twitched away from his touch and Dorian was certain he heard just a hint of uncertainty when Bull again asks, “Yield?”

Eyes narrowing, Dorian danced his fingers across that same bit of flesh again, this time forcing a little snorting laugh from his lover.  A wicked grin formed on his face as Dorian whispered, “Never.”

Bull laughed, bending to press the attack again as Dorian threw a little force magic, just enough to topple Bull from his perch and allow Dorian to take the advantage.  He pounced onto Bull and began tickling his flesh mercilessly as the larger man rolled, trying to buck him off.

“Cheater,” Bull laughed, managing to grab one of Dorian’s legs and tickle the spot behind his knee.

“No rules…established,” Dorian countered with a roll that let him scrape his fingers across the sensitive skin at the base of Bull’s skull.

“Show you…”

“Yeah…right…”

“Dorian…”

“Bull…”

Control passed back and forth more frequently than many would have guessed, Dorian not hesitating to hit Bull with a little push when he needed to, though he used no other magic. The battle waged on until the pair of them were laughing so hard they could no longer speak, even normal un-ticklish bits twitching beneath their fingers.

Eventually the need to breathe forced them both to stop, legs intertwined and faces pressed inches from each other, each panting breath passed from one to the other.  “Hey, Kadan,” Bull finally huffed, his hand coming up to cup the back of Dorian’s head firmly as he pulled his mage closer and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.  

Dorian moaned softly, angling his body closer and parting his lips to allow Bull inside , their tongues twisting against each other as the taste of his love flooded Dorian’s senses.  Quickly losing himself in the kiss, he had to struggle to understand the word Bull whispered against his lips.  

“Truce?”


	32. Not You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Sunday: Omegaverse. Dorian and Bull get in a fight after Dorian gets seriously injured in the field.

Dorian shook his head, sweat flying from his brow as he renewed the barrier he had over Evie and Bull before turning his attention to the Red Templar Knight. The beastly creature was quietly creeping towards where Sera was currently perched on a rocky outcropping, her vantage point allowing her to rain arrows down on their enemies.

Casting winter’s grasp, Dorian waited until the knight got close enough to activate the trap then set an immolate down and grinned viciously as the Templar exploded into a million tiny flaming shards of ice.

“Shite, Fancy Britches, I’ll be picking ‘em out of m’ hair for a week,” Sera grumbled, an arrow passing so close to Dorian’s own head he heard the wind whistling through the fletches.

“You’re welcome, my dear,” Dorian laughed as he spun just in time to see one of the Shadows go down, Sera’s arrow driven almost completely through his throat.  Refreshing the barrier he had on the archer, Dorian turned his attention forward once more, reaching to his belt for a lyrium potion only to find he had apparently taken the last one.

“Vishante kaffas,” Dorian muttered, noting that Evie and Bull had drifted too far apart for him to be able to cast a single barrier.  Throwing the first barrier up on Bull was only common sense, he was still battling one of the behemoths, while Evie looked close to finishing off one of the Guards.  Still, the last of his mana went to refreshing her barrier, thankful that those appeared to be the last two combatants.

_“Fancy Britches!”_

Sera’s cry was accompanied by the ground shaking beneath Dorian’s feet and before he even had time to turn he found himself snatched up in a giant’s grasp, fingers curling around his ribs so tightly he heard a couple snap as the creature shook him like a rag doll before throwing him to the side.  Dorian slammed into a tree, his spine curling around the wide trunk as his head slammed into the hard bark.  The last thing he saw as he slid to the ground was Evie running toward the Giant, her sword raised as the barrier winked out of existence.

 

 

“Evie!” Dorian awoke with a sharp cry and a surge of movement, only to have every muscle in his body protesting his attempt to sit up.  Slumping back against the pillow, Dorian barely had time to note that he was currently occupying his own bed rather than some uncomfortable cot before he found his view obscured by Bull’s rather concerned face.

“Kadan, it’s alright,” Bull assured him, one large silver palm resting heavily on Dorian’s chest.

Dorian curled one of his hands around Bull’s wrist, absently noting, as he always did, that his fingers didn’t come close to meeting.  “What happened?”

Dorian felt the muscles beneath his hand tense, but that was nothing compared to Bull’s carefully measured words.  “I don’t know, Kadan.  Why don’t you tell me?”

Dorian frowned as Bull’s scent took on a decidedly acrid edge, Dorian’s head dropping in automatic deferral to his mate’s anger.  “Alpha?”

“I saw the whole thing, Dorian.  Watched as that giant picked up what was _mine_ and threw you away as though you were nothing.  I watched as you hit that tree full force…no way you had a barrier up,” Bull’s words had gotten progressively louder, from a low controlled question all the way up to a roar by the time he growled, “ _Why was there no barrier, Dorian_?”

Bull’s arm was now trembling with suppressed anger and Dorian’s instincts were screaming loud enough to make his head pound.   _Danger.  Run.  Hide._ But Dorian wasn’t just an Omega, not just Bull’s mate, he was the Scion of House Pavus and that meant that he hid from no man.

Surging back up he sat as straight in the bed as his broken ribs would allow, refusing to release his hold on Bull from sheer principle alone.  “Gee, I don’t know, _Bull_.    Maybe I just forgot.”

“Omega.” The one word was growled from Bull’s chest more than spoken, each syllable uttered slower than the last.

Scowling up at his mate Dorian hissed, “We were in the middle of battle, Bull.  Who should I have left unprotected, huh?  Evie?  You?”

“ _Not you_.”  Bull’s growl nearly rattled the windows and left Dorian blinking in stunned silence for several long moments.

A long slow breath kept Dorian from screaming back, though there was no hiding the frost in his tone when he finally spoke.  “Contrary to your obvious belief I’m not an idiot.  I had checked and the behemoth and Templar Guard were the last of them.  Shielding myself would have been counterproductive.”

Bull frowned down at him, his free hand pulling over his face in frustration.  “You were thrown across the clearing by a _giant_ , Dorian.”

“Yes, a fact I am only too aware of,” Dorian grumbled, wincing slightly when he caught just a hint of bitter fear creep into Bull’s scent.  Drawing in a deep breath, Dorian held it for a moment before slowly exhaling, his tone much softer when he spoke again.  “I didn’t expect the giant, Amatus.  I truly thought the battle over.”

Dorian watched as the fight left his mate in a rush, his huge frame trembling once before he sank down onto the edge of the bed, his eye leaving Dorian for the first time to focus on his hands that lay limp in his lap.  “I couldn’t get to you.”

There was so much regret in those few words that Dorian thought he might drown in them, the hand that still circled Bull’s wrist smoothing out to track soothingly up his arm.  “Alpha,” Dorian whispered on a sigh, forcing his sore body to shift so that he could lean up against Bull’s back, his own arms curling around the warrior’s shoulders that somehow felt so much smaller than they ever had.

Another tremor chased down Bull’s spine but otherwise the Alpha gave no indication he was even aware of Dorian’s body pressed hard against his own.  Dorian pressed a soft kiss to the center of Bull’s shoulder blades before laying his cheek against the spot, offering his mate what comfort he could.  Bull’s words, when he finally spoke were whispered so softly Dorian held his breath for fear of missing them.  “I failed you.  You are my mate, my Omega, and when you needed me…”

‘Shhhhh, Amatus.  It’s not your fault.”  Dorian whispered the words against Bull’s skin, his fingers curling against his mate’s chest as though they could possibly get any closer.

“I thought you were…”

“But I’m not, I’m here,” Dorian assured him, shifting until he could grip Bull’s shoulders and twist the Alpha’s body enough that he could take one of his hands and press it against Dorian’s chest.  “Feel that, that’s proof that I’m here, that we’re both still here.”

The shudder that coursed through Bull’s body was accompanied by a sob that threatened to break Dorian’s heart as his Alpha twisted further so that he could scoop Dorian up and settle him in his lap.  “Promise me, Dorian…Omega… _Kadan_ .  Promise me never again,” Bull whispered fiercely against Dorian’s temple, “ _promise_.”

Dorian had to swallow against the knot in his throat, hating that he couldn’t make that promise.  “Bull…”

Another heavy sigh wracked the larger man’s body.  “I know, I know that’s not fair but… _fuck_.”

It was Dorian’s turn to sigh softly, his hand cupping Bull’s cheek gently.  “I’m sorry that I scared you…but you didn’t fail, Bull… _Alpha_.”  Dorian whispered fiercely, pleased at the soft tremor that went through his mate.  “You could never fail me.  I know how hard it is for you to see me in battle when your very nature is screaming that I should be, well, should be here, safe, but you’ve never once tried to convince me to stay and I love you for that.”

“I would never try to change you,” Bull admitted, nuzzling at Dorian’s mating mark, his tongue darting out to lick over the sensitive spot of skin and drawing a low moan from the Omega.  “But maybe you could save just a little mana…”

Dorian chuckled and slapped at Bull’s chest.  “Are you trying to coerce me, Alpha?”

“Wouldn’t…dream…of…it,” Bull whispered against Dorian’s skin, each word punctuated by a little nip.

“Liar.”

“ _Dorian_.”  Bull purred his name against his ear, the Alpha’s chest shaking from the strength of it.

“Oh fine,” Dorian agreed with a flutter of his hands.  “No more running out of mana…I promise.”

“Thank you,” Bull grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Dorian’s lips.

Dorian snorted and shook his head.  “You are an evil, evil man, Amatus.”

“So does that mean you aren’t interested in a ‘glad you’re feeling better’ blowjob?”

“Festis bei umo canavarum.”

“Is that a no?” Bull asked with an arched brow.

“Oh no, Alpha…” Dorian grinned wickedly as he shifted to straddle Bull’s waist.  “That was very much ‘yes’.”


End file.
